


Sanctus

by AmandaHuffleduck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Blood and Gore, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaHuffleduck/pseuds/AmandaHuffleduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The militaristic, agrarian people that had risen to prominence along the Italian peninsula and beyond had always revered the wolf – as an infant their founder had been suckled by a she-wolf  – and so it would have come as no surprise to discover that one of their many, many cults centred around a wolfish creature.</i> </p><p>For the 2007 Fantasy Fest on the Lupin/Snape Lurve Community.<br/>Prompt: magical Roman AU, R as master (still werewolf) , S as slave (still good at potions or something similar). any rating, any ending or plot twist. +18</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An Historical AU which means it's not just canon I've bent over the table, but history as well. _Mwahahah_!
> 
> Contains dubious Latin, minimal research and werewolf cliches.

_The militaristic, agrarian people that had risen to prominence along the Italian peninsula and beyond had always revered the wolf – as an infant their founder had been suckled by a she-wolf – and so it would have come as no surprise to discover that one of their many, many cults centred around a wolfish creature._   
_This particular sect was attached to the worship of Janus, one of Rome's oldest gods, he of gates and doorways, beginnings and endings, change and transition. Oddly though, the cult was hardly known at all: only those directly involved, and the highest echelons of the ruling elite, had any idea that lycanthropes – always male and only one at a time - had been kept for the purposes of divination since the founding of the state…_

Drifting as he was on the edge of consciousness and pain, the mens' voices seemed remote.

"Where's the Greek?" _Imperious._  
"My master is indisposed, Lord, he sends his apologies, and myself in his stead." _Dispassionate_.  
"This is intolerable!" _Sneering_. "You're just a slave."  
"I am skilled; I have studied with my master for many years."  
A fraught pause, then the second voice spoke again in a fierce whisper.  
"If he dies it will go very badly for you, and your master."  
"I understand, Lord."

There were sounds indicative of someone moving closer, but he instinctively focused his exceptional hearing on the two men conversing in earnest undertones as they retreated.

"This is ill-omened, Tullius. What will we tell the Emperor?"  
"The truth, Artorius; that while the lycanthrope sustained some injuries the reading of the bull's entrails was decidedly favourable."  
"It's all in the phrasing, isn't it?" The sneer was still there, but also a grudging admiration. "What if he dies? We don't have a replacement."  
"Not to hand no…"

The pair passed out of range and he reluctantly brought his attention back to the third man.

"Are you conscious? Open your eyes. Have they dosed you?" 

He was aware of a face close to his, the intimacy of warm breath on his chin. The man was sniffing his mouth and a primal part of himself growled at the presumption, though strangely, he found he couldn't move his limbs. The warmth withdrew. 

"Poppy juice. Good enough." 

There was pressure on his eyes and then a fuzzy glow flooded his sight as his eyelids were pushed up. The man made an irritated sound. 

"They've given you too much. Incompetents. Couldn't wait for an actual healer…" A light sting on his cheek made him mumble petulantly. "Can you hear me? Open your eyes."

Remus forced his eyelids to cooperate, feeling as if they were dragging the weight of quarried stone with them. His tired eyes eventually focussed on a face that was far from attractive; long and thin, sallow-skin stretched over angular cheeks and a badly broken nose, black eyes burning with an unholy intensity. Remus blinked and the impression of fiendishness receeded, leaving him to suspect it was the poppy juice interfering with his perceptions.

"Do you know what happened?" 

The man was displaying a galling lack of deference - didn't he know who he was talking to? The flare of outraged anger ebbed away quickly as Remus' sense returned. Of course he wouldn't know, it was a secret, but even so, while physicians may be allowed some liberty with their patients, physician's slaves could not. 

"I don't care for your manner." He'd aimed to imitate Tullius' effortlessly superior tone but feared some of the authority might have been lost when all he could produce was a croaky whisper.  
"Forgive my brusque approach, Lord." The slave spoke offhandedly, his attention focused on peeling back the bloodied rags packed tightly over his patient's flank. He was frowning. "I was told you were gored by a bull, Lord?"  
"Yes." The smell of his own blood was making Remus' nauseous.  
"When?"  
"Last night."  
The slave shot him an unreadable look.  
"You should be dead, Lord."  
"Well I'm not, and stop prodding me!" Remus snarled; the pain was oozing past the numbing barrier of poppy juice and he really didn't want to be awake any more.  
"I'm sorry, Lord, but I need to assess the damage…"

Remus grit his teeth against wincing as invasive fingers probed his side. _It hurt, it hurt_ …

"I'll give you something more soon, Lord." The slave was rummaging around in a capacious leather bag. "It was full moon last night, wasn't it?" He said almost conversationally.  
"Yes. So?"

The sallow man was holding a small, bright knife. He gently turned one of Remus' hands palm up on the pallet then touched the flat of the blade to the underside of his wrist. Remus yelped at the burning sensation, instinctively snatching his hand away though the movement wrenched his side. 

"I see." The slave nodded in seeming satisfaction. "I can say with certainty, Lord, that unless the bull's horns were tipped with silver you're not going to die from that wound." He was rummaging around in his bag once more, pulling out wrapped bundles, a small bowl, various jars. "I've had dealings with your kind before. You're a hardy lot." 

Remus stared at him, his chest suddenly tight with something other than pain.

"What are you saying? My kind?"

The slave looked up from whatever it was he was doing with the bowl and handfuls of chopped vegetation. 

" _Werewolves_." It wasn't a word Remus recognised, it sounded Germanic. "Lycanthropes." The slave elucidated with a small smirk. Then he frowned, taking in his patient's disbelieving expression. "You didn't think you were the only one, did you? Ah..." He dropped his eyes, the first show of true deference. Or perhaps fear; there was a tang of it in his scent. "Forgive my presumption, Lord, I meant no disrespect."  
"Where…?" Remus swallowed. "Where did you meet these… _werewolves_." His tongue felt clumsy around the foreign word.  
"In Albion, Lord. My home. Though I believe - " the slave cleared his throat. "I believe there are packs all throughout the world."

_Packs_. It evoked a sense memory, an inarticulate longing for something he couldn't begin to define. He'd always thought he was the only one; his tutors, the priests of Janus had never said otherwise… Remus closed his eyes; it was too much to consider in his current state.

"Get me something for the pain." He said gruffly. 

It was sometime past midday when Remus next reached consciousness. He was still naked, still lying supine on his pallet, but covered now by a light linen sheet. He ached from his shoulders to his knees but his body sense told him that the flesh torn open by bull's horn was already healing.

"Ah, good, you're awake, Lord. How are you feeling?"

Remus turned his head towards the voice. How did he feel? As if an enraged bull had skewered his vitals, other than that… He moved his tongue around a mouth that felt thick and sticky.

"Thirsty."

The slave nodded. 

"You were lucky, Lord, there are no perforations in your bowel. You can have something to drink. Here, sit up if you can." He slid a wiry arm behind Remus' shoulders, supporting his upper body as he held a beaker to his lips. Remus sipped gratefully at the watered wine, but grimaced at the bitterness of medicine inadequately masked by honey. 

"The herbs will promote healing, prevent infection and help your body regain lost blood." Remus managed to swallow half of the liquid before he let himself be laid back down. Weariness was tugging at his limbs again. "There's also something to help you sleep." The slave murmured. "But no more poppy. You've had too much as it is."  
"You have my thanks." Remus croaked, then yawned.  
The slave half smiled.  
"Rest now, Lord. It will help you heal…"

Remus stirred awake again as twilight was hovering on the brink of night. Lamps had been lit and the smell of cooking tickled his nostrils, coaxing his stomach to a sleepy rumble. The slave was still in attendance, working at something at the small table across the chamber. Remus regarded him idly, drawn to look only because his was the only movement visible. The man was thin and quite tall, and though he was clean-shaven after the Roman fashion, his straight, black hair was long and sleek, caught back neatly with a leather thong. His tunic was plain and coarse, as befitted his social standing, and loose enough that the neck hole had slipped slightly, revealing the pale, bare skin of one shoulder. 

Remus stared, transfixed and befuddled, more stirred by that small patch of ropy flesh than the bounteous softness displayed by the women that were occasionally brought for his entertainment. His mouth watered with the desire to sink his teeth into the slave's skin, preferably while he was spearing his cock into a pliant body.  
The man turned at Remus' groan.

"Are you in pain, Lord?"  
"No. Not really." Remus swallowed thickly and hoped the evidence of his preoccupation wasn't noticeable beneath the sheet.  
"You may eat, if you like. Just soup for now."  
"Please." Remus struggled to move and in an instant the slave was at his side, helping him upright. 

Being attracted to your own sex wasn't considered a virtue of Roman manliness and so Remus had spent years suppressing or ignoring this inappropriate inclination. He _so_ wanted to be a good citizen, so wanted to be worthy of the honour bestowed on him, but with overwhelming temptation this close… He breathed through his nose, shamelessly scenting his carer. 

"You're looking better." 

The elder priest nodded approvingly. Somehow, Tullius had made his way into the chamber without Remus noticing.  
Severus moved away, withdrawing his warmth and enticing scent, to stand deferentially to one side; Remus swallowed the urge to growl at Tullius for interrupting.

"I'm much improved, thanks to – " he cast a carefully casual glance at the thin man. "What's your name?"  
"I am called Severus." The slave briefly met his eyes but he could read nothing in his expression.  
" - Thanks to Severus' care." Remus continued. The slave inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of the compliment but didn't comment.  
"Will he need your continuing attention?" The priest addressed Severus directly.  
"No, Lord, he's out of danger. I – or my master – can return tomorrow to check – "  
"He can't leave." 

Remus silently cursed his impetuosity as he found himself under the scrutiny of two equally impassive gazes. He'd interjected without thinking and now had to come up with a plausible reason for his objection - other than wanting Severus in his bed. 

"It's getting dark, it wouldn't be safe."  
Tullius raised an eyebrow.  
"I can send him along with a couple of guards."  
Remus was about to speak – though he had no idea what he was going to say – when the slave cut in smoothly.  
"If you have no objection, Lord – " he was speaking to Tullius, " – I could remain the night. It would be remiss of me to leave a patient until I'm absolutely sure there won't be any complications."  
The priest was silent for a moment, apparently not noticing the slave's about-face; then he nodded.  
"That's perhaps a sensible precaution. Very well, I'll order a pallet made up for you in here. That's if you have no objections, Remus?"  
"None at all." The lycanthrope was doing his best to not look too pleased. 

Severus helped him with his meal, spooning the rich broth into his mouth. Remus could well have managed on his own but he wasn't above playing the invalid if it meant keeping the slave physically close to him for just a little longer. After eating, the dressing on his wound was rechecked then the rest of his bodily needs were efficiently attended to; all needs except one – Remus was quietly rueful. Not that he was in any condition for love play, but soon… He had some vague plans in that regard - very vague, as he'd never approached a man before and the women had known their purpose and got on with things without preamble. 

He was settled back in bed and handed another beaker of medicinally fortified wine. Remus sipped the concoction while he considered his strategy - or perhaps it was closer to the truth to say he drank while he mustered his courage – but Fortuna was more inclined to be capricious than helpful tonight. Belatedly the lycanthrope realised that the mixture again included a soporific.  
In the unsteady light of the lamp, with his eyes falling closed, he wasn't sure if that was a smirk on the slave's face or not. 

Remus woke, as always, as the first rays of dawn crested the compound walls. His sight was as sharp in the half-light as full and he eased over on to his injured side now to study the man sleeping on the floor across the room. How old was he? Not a youth, certainly, and there was harsh experience in the lines around his eyes. He said he was from Albion – Britannia, to the Romans – a land reputed to be barbaric and wet. Severus didn't act like a barbarian, though that might be because he'd been long enough amongst Greeks and Romans to pick up some civilisation… 

He was being watched in turn; deep-set black eyes almost lost in the shadows of the angular face.

"How did you sleep, Lord?"  
"Deeply."  
"Any pain?"  
"Some. Not incapacitating."  
"I'll check the wound, Lord."  
The lycanthrope watched, dry-mouthed, as Severus appeared to unfold from the pallet. He'd slept in his tunic but that was short enough to reveal long, long legs. Remus suppressed a groan.  
"Lord?"  
"No, no, I'm well."  
Wincing, he rolled obediently on to his back, staring stoically at the ceiling while the slave poked about with poultices and dressings.  
"It's closing nicely, Lord. You should be able to move about on your own today, but I recommend no strenuous activity for at least four days." Severus was reaching across his abdomen as he refastened the bindings. It was little short of pathetic but Remus luxuriated in the touch, almost able to imagine the impersonal touch of a physician to be something more.  
"I have to return to my master, Lord." Remus was surely imagining the regret in the slave's voice. "Send word to Cleon, or myself, if you have any concerns."  
"Severus?" With his mind clearer now, Remus found there were some incongruities he wished explained. "You weren't surprised when you recognised my… nature. Had Cleon warned you?"  
"No, Lord, my master is the essence of prudence." There was no mistaking the smirk this time. "But if he believed the asinine code he uses to obscure his notes would stop me from reading them…"  
Remus chuckled, ignoring the resultant twinge in his side.  
"Was he truly ill yesterday?"  
"He was, Lord. My master would never have neglected such an important client if it were not the case."  
"Cleon trusts you?"  
"My master trusts me to be discreet in my own self-interest."  
"Meaning?"  
Severus paused in the gathering of his equipment to give the lycanthrope a frank look.  
"What would happen to me if I were… indiscreet about your condition?"  
"You'd be killed." Remus answered immediately, then blinked. "Oh."  
"Exactly. I am _very_ discreet, Lord."

Severus left as soon as it was light and shortly thereafter Remus breakfasted with the head priests.

"I'm glad to see you're healed enough to eat, young Remus." Artorius grinned at him.  
"Nothing will keep me away from food for very long." Remus laughed.  
Tullius eyed him critically.  
"It seems that Cleon's replacement did you no harm, at least."  
"Far from it, in fact – " Remus toyed with his goblet. "I would like him to remain here, as my personal physician."  
Artorius' eyebrows climbed to his receding hair line.  
"Why?"  
"Because," Remus looked straight into the elder's eyes and for the first time in his life engaged in a little deliberate misdirection. "He knows what I am, he could let slip the information."  
"He could be dealt with." Artorius' meaning was clear.  
"Why waste his skills?" Remus shrugged. "Keep him here, under our supervision, the better to control any potential breach."  
"How does he know?" Tullius was grim. "Did Cleon tell him?"  
"No, no, the Greek has said nothing, but his slave is an intelligent man, he worked it out on his own."  
Artorius was thoughtful, tapping his chin.  
"I can't see the harm in bringing him here, and it's not as if having a healer handy wouldn't be a convenience." He exchanged a look with Tullius. "Cleon won't appreciate the loss, however."  
"He has a plethora of slaves." Tullius half-smiled, dismissive.  
"To fetch and carry, yes; skilled healers, no."  
"He can be recompensed."

Remus watched the exchange with concealed excitement. If Severus was here all the time there would be ample opportunity to… indulge. He was breathless at the thought.

"Very well, then." Artorius brushed the crumbs from his hands and stood up. "I'll speak to Cleon. Who knows? He might be glad to hand over the duty of your care, Remus?"  
The lycanthrope grinned.  
"Well, he's not a young man anymore." Indeed, no. He'd seemed old to Remus twenty years ago when he'd first needed his expertise.  
"I'm sure by now he's amassed more than enough gold to retire comfortably." Artorius laughed as he strode away. 

Remus finished his pastry, feeling rather pleased with himself, though the satisfaction was tinged with unease because Tullius was regarding him with something like amusement. The elder got to his feet.

"You're like a son to me, Remus." Clasping the lycanthrope's shoulder he leant close to murmur: "Be circumspect."

Remus stared into iron-grey eyes and blushed. He'd never been able to hide anything from Tullius; the priest knew precisely why he wanted Severus. With that realisation came a deeper flash of insight and an associated sorrow. Tullius was indulging him. Remus covered the man's hand with his own, briefly squeezing it where it lay over his shoulder.

"Thank you." He whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Remus was resting in his chambers later that day when Artorius presented him with his new, personal slave. The two men stared at each other for a moment then Severus dropped his gaze, a submissive action that prompted a curl of arousal to unfold low in the werewolf's belly.

"He's yours, I suppose, so he'll sleep here." Artorius sounded vaguely censorious. "Unless you want him to sleep with the other slaves?"  
Remus shrugged.  
"Here will do. Unless I need privacy."  
The old priest smirked a little at that; he was assuming Remus meant when he had female company.  
"Tullius has assigned him the far room at the end of this wing to prepare his medicines." Artorius had yet to address the slave directly. "Cleon has been most helpful in that regard. He's sending some equipment and supplies over in the next day or so." The priest smiled cheerfully. "Personally, I think he was relieved to hand over your care." 

Remus saw the slave's lips quirk at that and was curious as to what had actually happened that morning. How had the exchange had gone? Did the Greek argue the loss of his slave?  
Artorius excused himself, leaving master and slave to stand in awkward silence. 

"Well…" Remus was chagrined to find he didn't quite know what to do with his new acquisition. The sect had slaves of course, but as it was something of an austere order there were no personal slaves, as such. "Have you eaten?"  
"Yes. Thank you, master."  
"Good, good…"

Remus resisted the urge to fidget. Severus was a slave, _his_ slave, but he didn't want to treat him with the casual disregard he did the others. He wanted… he wanted him to be a companion. It was unnerving, unmanning, to have his instincts go against what he'd been taught was the natural order.

"May I check your wound, master?"

Remus nodded his assent, then sat silent as his tunic was lifted out of the way and the bindings unwrapped. Severus gently probed the pinked, hand-length furrow in the lycanthrope's otherwise unmarked skin.

"Almost healed." The slave's glance was furtively smug. "As I thought it might be." He set the bandages aside. "Are you sore, master? I understand the transformation is stressful at the best of times. I have some skill at massage…"  
" _Stressful_." Remus snorted. "You could say that." 

It was agony, and always left him aching bodily for a day or so even when he hadn't been injured. Massage was sometimes helpful, true – if the practitioner wasn't too heavy handed. He most needed a gentle touch after the full moon. Still, he was half ashamed to admit he'd endure any pain if it meant letting Severus touch him more intimately. 

"I am sore, yes."  
The slave indicated Remus' pallet.  
"Lie down then, please, master, and I'll see what I can do." 

Remus groaned in appreciation; the oil smoothed over his body was infused with something sharp and resinous that seemed to heat his joints as it cooled his skin. He was melting, he was sure of it, rubbed into bliss by the slave's deft handling. There were moments of pain as Severus found the knotted points in his body but the slave manipulated and _pressed_ and the discomfort dissolved to be swept away by another pass of a warm hands. Remus struggled to keep his focus: it would be so easy to fall asleep.

"Tell me about the other lycanthropes."

Without breaking the rhythm of his strokes, Severus wove him a narrative of deep forests and a secretive, proud people who would only treat with a special few. Lulled into a doze by the absence of pain and the slave's rich voice, Remus' imagination took him along the hidden paths to the pack's caves to meet the matriarch, Bretta, a formidable, grey-haired woman as strong and fierce as any clan chief.  
Remus slept, dreaming of fur and meat and the full moon viewed through the canopy of ancient trees… 

"Master…"  
Remus snorted awake, groggily certain he'd just been snoring.  
"Master, you've been called to the evening meal."

He yawned and languidly pushed himself upright, pleased to note that he'd not drooled in his sleep at least. Remus yawned again and stretched fully, arching his back and delighting in the absence of pain. He felt marvellous, loose limbed and relaxed. He grinned unabashedly at the – his – slave.

"I have never felt so good so soon after a transformation. I'd accuse you of witchcraft if I didn't know better!"  
"Didn't know better, master?"  
"That there's no such thing - beyond superstition and artifice." Remus slid off his pallet and straightened his tunic. "You'll eat with the other slaves."  
"Yes, master."

Remus, suffused with energy, strode from the room without noticing his slave's abrupt, frosty silence. 

Severus was not made welcome in the slaves' quarters, but then he hadn't expected to, not when he was in the contrary position of being both the newest, untried addition to a small and private group but also the only personal slave in the compound. _Personal slaves_ , he quickly understood, were considered by this cluster of proud stoics to be decadent, lazy and effete. He surmised it would take some time – and utilising his talents as a healer for their benefit – before he could begin to be accepted. But no matter, the enforced ostracisation suited him for the moment, he had much to consider.

The Romans were such children. Arrogant, bullying children who would only play on their terms and grasped greedily at the shiny baubles belonging to others. The Greeks at least had some idea of the interconnectedness of the world, but the Romans…? 

_No such thing as witchcraft_. 

Hah! Fools. What they couldn't control they feared; what they feared, they destroyed; what they couldn't destroy they denied. Or tried to. Magic was part of the natural order, as inexorably twined with life as the progression of the seasons, the movements of the stars. It couldn't be denied, and just because most weren't blessed with the ability to perceive or manipulate this powerful force did not mean it couldn't exist. Severus smirked into his bowl of stew; he knew about magic, he understood. He was, after all, a _magus_. 

"You." The portly overseer poked him in the shoulder. "Your _master's_ finished eating. You'd better scuttle along to him." 

Severus got to his feet, keeping his expression neutral but effectively ignoring the portly and mocking older slave. He left his bowl amongst the stack of others to be cleaned then made a point of thanking the cook for his meal before following the overseer from the slaves' quarters.

As they crossed the compound Severus breathed deeply of the chill night air. He glanced up at the canopy of stars, letting their eternal tranquillity soothe and calm him. He wasn't an idiot, he understood the real reason for his presence here. The lycanthrope wanted to bed him? So be it. The man was attractive, at least, and he didn't stink. Severus mentally rolled his eyes at the beginnings of arousal thrumming through his bones. Foolish to anticipate, foolish to yearn; it could only lead to grief. 

The overseer stood with him outside his master's rooms, his insolent leer immediately sliding to obsequious respect when the lycanthrope himself opened the door. The old slave was dismissed with a curt nod and Severus ushered within. 

"You've eaten?"  
"Yes, master."

Severus observed that the wolf was fidgety and it was obvious he'd partaken of more than a small measure of wine with his meal. The slave watched his master tense, saw the internal conflict reflected in his hesitation. He wanted him, he could just take him and Severus would be – mostly – helpless to stop it but… he was restraining himself. Why? This was not the sort of behaviour the slave had come to expect from a race that believed themselves superior to all save their gods. 

There was reputed Seer blood in Severus' family and more than once in his life he'd felt the prickle of destiny swinging on a choice he'd had to make. He felt that same prickle in his gut now, but which way to step? Should he stay passive or take the initiative? He'd made poor choices in the past and then as now he had no way of knowing which direction would ultimately be in his best interests. But… the werewolf's naked, thwarted need was painful to witness. Severus made his choice.

"Just ask, master." He whispered. 

Remus swallowed, clearly taken aback by his slave's audacity, but after a moment he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. The action was proud, controlled, almost enough to disguise his nerves.

"I'm asking."  
Severus shivered at the longing barely concealed in the Roman's tone. He stepped forward, close enough to touch.  
"Have you done this before, master?"  
Remus' gaze skittered away.  
"…Not with a man."  
"There is no shame in this, master." 

Remus' lips twitched, in humour or denial, and Severus waited, holding himself still as the man very slowly raised blunt fingers to his lips, stroking gently, a look of something like wonder on his face.

"So soft…" The fingers slipped upwards, sweeping over his cheek.  
Severus turned his head to nuzzle a smooth palm.  
"Will you let me lead you, master?"  
The wolf's rich, brown eyes narrowed speculatively.  
"You've done this before?"  
"Yes." Severus shrugged.  
"Do you, ah, do you enjoy it?"  
"Oh yes." 

The slave allowed himself to grin: no need to burden the neophyte with tales of the times he hadn't. Then the Roman quite deliberately scented the air and Severus froze, remembering belatedly that a werewolf's full-moon heightened senses didn't immediately fade back to normal. The hand on his cheek stiffened.

"You're lying."  
"No, master." Severus said quickly. "I've been forced, and that I didn't enjoy, but - " he locked eyes with the wolf and took a step forward. "When the desire is mutual…" He trailed off, watching the Roman closely. He wanted this, he realised with something close to surprise. He'd never been someone's first before.  
Remus' rigid posture relaxed fractionally.  
"Show me." 

Severus inclined his head, accepting the responsibility. He reached for the Roman's tunic, deftly unknotting the belt and letting that drop to the floor before drawing the garment over his master's head. He took a moment to savour the man in front of him; broad shoulders, smooth, clean skin – oh, he'd definitely had worse. He was being watched with wide, wary eyes, his reactions weighed and judged. Severus could almost read the thoughts flitting across the wolf's expressive face. Was he acceptable? Was Severus repulsed? The slave's lips quirked as he pressed a hand to the Roman's chest, leaning in slowly to nuzzle the supple neck. His hand slid down to tug open the simple loincloth: how could he be repulsed by _this_? 

Remus' arms remained limp at his sides but he was quivering under the slave's touch. Severus wrapped long fingers around a burgeoning erection and the Roman hissed.

"Yes, master?" he murmured, smirking.  
" _Yes_." 

The growl prompted a leap in Severus' own arousal and he shivered. The wolf turned to him, twisting his fingers in lank, black hair, using the grip to yank the slave's head back and expose his throat. Severus moaned, the implied dominance bringing back exhilarating memories of similar interactions with another werewolf, long ago. 

Remus was searching his face. 

"You want this." It wasn't precisely a question, or a statement.  
"Yes, master." Severus gasped. "Let me… Let me prepare myself."

It was clear the Roman wasn't sure what he meant, but he released his grip, watching with an uncanny stillness as Severus shakily disrobed before rifling through his leather bag. The slave held up a small pottery bottle, securely sealed with a scrap of thick cloth and cord about the close-fitting cork.

"To ease the way, for both of us."

Comprehension dawned in werewolf's amber eyes. He blushed and it was that that reminded Severus he was essentially dealing with a virgin. He hid his amusement and restrained the urge to tease – too much. He unwound the cord and opened the bottle, releasing the scent of almond oil and sweet orange. The wolf's nose twitched and he shifted on his feet.

"Is this acceptable?" the slave asked. "I have others."  
"That will do. Continue." 

The words were rough and Severus could guess that the limits of his master's patience were being tested. Not looking at the Roman, he poured a small amount of oil into his palm then reached behind himself and adroitly dribbled the liquid over the pucker of his anus. He worked a finger into his arse, spreading the emollient internally then repeated the process, as much to ensure adequate lubrication as provoke his audience. Sure enough…

The wolf had stepped forward, his eyes glittering hotly and before his patience snapped completely, Severus tipped out a little more of the oil and smoothed it over his rigid penis. Remus jerked at the contact then groaned, breathing heavily through his nose. 

"Are you ready?" he growled, all but pouncing when his slave nodded. 

Severus was almost ready for the sudden movement but he found himself face forward over the Roman's bed, a hot hand pinning him down by the neck, before he could adjust. As the werewolf fumbled around at his rear he wriggled his feet apart and tilted his pelvis up, consciously relaxing as much as he could with the knowledge that his master's inexperience was likely to make this brief and violent. He awkwardly braced himself with his elbows against the pallet scant moments before he was breached.

His arousal vanished in the onslaught of pain. It was all he could do to grit his teeth and endure, but as he'd predicted, it didn't go on for any great length of time. The Roman pumped hard a few more times then stilled, his hand clenching tighter around Severus' neck as he climaxed. He slumped forward over the slave's prone body, puffing raggedly into his hair. After a few moments he pushed himself up, pulling free with a sharp movement that made Severus wince, then hauled himself onto his bed. The Roman rolled onto his side and was asleep in a few heartbeats.

Trembling, Severus sank to his knees beside the pallet and drooped forward, resting his forehead against the firm mattress. He felt the thick wetness of his master's semen sliding from his body and consoled himself that he'd made it through worse. This Roman wasn't trying to hurt him, he was just thoughtless. 

Numbly, gracelessly, Severus got to his feet and began preparing for bed. There was blood on the rag after he'd cleaned himself, but not enough to cause alarm. He drank one of his pain mixtures, doused the lamp then hobbled over to his own pallet. 

 

Severus was aware of the scrutiny long before he opened his eyes.  
"I smell blood." The werewolf's voice was tight. "I hurt you."  
"I will heal, master."  
"I shouldn't have…"  
Severus looked up from his pallet on the floor to see the Roman sitting naked and tense on the edge of his own bed.  
"It wasn't entirely your fault, master. It is still close to the full moon." Which was something Severus should've remembered, given his previous experiences. No werewolf had full control only two days out from full, let alone one who was inexperienced and desperate.  
"I will be more considerate, next time." 

There was an edge of hopefulness in the Roman's tone and Severus realised, with surprise, that he was being given the choice. He could say no… and he believed the werewolf was honourable enough to abide by his decision. He could save himself a lot of trouble by just saying 'no' but should he? If he rejected his master now, chances were that next full moon – when the wolf would inevitably lose control through frustration - he'd have no choice at all about submitting. 

"Penetration will not be possible for a couple of days, master."  
Remus' blush utterly belied his nonchalance.  
"There are other things we can do."  
"There is." Severus agreed softly, cursing himself for his optimism. 

Breakfast was a trial in patience. His master had, naturally, gone to eat with the priests and Severus went back to the slave quarters.

"Won't you sit?" Aulus, the overseer was smirking in an aggravating manner.  
"I'm busy." Severus sniffed and remained standing, bolting down his gruel. 

Anyone who believed slaves lived simply in their servitude was woefully misguided. The slaves' quarters could be a political arena as ruthless as the Forum. 

"Can't sit because you're _too busy_." The fat slave sniggered, winking exaggeratedly at his cohorts. 

Severus rolled his eyes: yes, the overseer knew the reason for his reluctance to sit – and so did the rest of the slaves now, he supposed – but he couldn't be bothered with the nonsense. 

"I have a medication that helps strengthen a weak bladder, if you have need of it." Severus wore his blandest, most professional expression. "I understand how debilitating the infirmities of age can be."

The overseer glared at him, then whipped his head around to glare at the one slave who'd tittered. In the ensuing silence Severus finished his meal and thanked the cook again – the old woman's lips were pressed together in suppressed mirth – and sauntered from the common room.

He ignored the " _Catamite. Unnatural_ …" that followed him in a furious hiss. If Aulus thought to revenge himself for the slur he'd find he was a poor match for Severus' wit and cunning. Not to mention the array of poisons the medically trained slave had at his disposal.

After breakfast, in his capacity as physician and in front of Tullius, Severus examined his master and pronounced him fit enough to resume his normal activities – as long as he didn't overdo it. The elder priest clapped the werewolf on the shoulder and led him away, grinning about letting the weapon's master go easy on him. Remus did not look reassured.

Cleon had been as good as his word and supplied his ex-slave with at least some of the equipment he needed. Severus spent a contented morning taking inventory and organising his stillroom. He was joined at midday by his master, whose amber eyes were sparkling and whose tunic was filthy and noticeably wet with perspiration. Severus sniffed surreptitiously: it was a healthy sweat, clear of any taint of illness.

"Eat with me." Remus smiled, open and inviting. His slave quirked an eyebrow.  
"You should bathe first, master." 

The Roman grinned wolfishly, clearly considering the advantages of their being naked together in the _thermae_. 

"It would not be appropriate, master." Severus admonished quietly but with good humour, relieved when the werewolf chuckled.  
"You can read my mind!"  
"No, master, just your face."  
Remus laughed aloud at that.  
"We'll eat outside. Meet me in the North courtyard. I'd like to learn more of – " he gestured at the assembled apparatus. " – what it is you do here."  
Severus bowed and his master left, striding confidently down the corridor.

The Roman was intelligent with a lively curiosity. He understood something of the principles behind medicine, having studied a little of that in his Philosophy, but he was intrigued to know more of the accepted wisdom, and of the new ideas filtering through from the East. 

"There is so much I want to know." There was a passing wistfulness in his voice that Severus wondered at.  
"Master, do you ever leave the compound?"  
"I have." The Roman shrugged. "I've been to the Capital for some Games, but I don't care for it. Too many people."

Severus could imagine how overwhelming all those sights and scents could be to a young man used to the sheltered life of a religious order, let alone a werewolf.

Remus polished off the remaining olives then sat back with a happy sigh.

"Is there anything you require, Severus? For your medicines?"  
"I will need to leave the compound on occasion, master, to purchase supplies."  
"You have my permission." Remus nodded. "Speak to Artorius about finances, or if you need to establish credit anywhere."  
"Thank you, master." Severus folded his hands in his lap. "I would also like permission to use part of the kitchen garden for growing herbs. I won't require much space."  
The werewolf tilted his head in inquiry.  
"Aren't there herbs there already?"  
"Of course, master, though I doubt very much they're growing all the types I need."  
"See Aulus, he'll organise it."  
"Thank you, master." Severus bowed his head. Though he wouldn't bother with the overseer, he'd go straight to the cook.  
Remus stood up and stretched.  
"Well, I'm off to spend a few hours in the company of some thrilling scrolls." The Roman was wry. "I'll probably benefit from a massage this evening."  
"Certainly, master."  
"Thank you," Remus shot him a surprisingly shy look. "I'll see you then."

Severus was gratified to discover that the kitchen garden grew a great variety of herbs, culinary and medicinal – and not just common medicinal plants, either. 

Gallia, the old cook, was excited at the prospect of growing new plants and was happy to grant the new slave space in her prized garden. She'd been slave to a Phoenician herbalist before coming to the sect, learning a lot from watching her previous master, though he never suspected her interest, and over the years she'd maintained and expanded on that interest. She could read, too; she even had a few precious scrolls she would be proud to share with someone else who had a respect for knowledge. Severus gave her one of his rare, genuine smiles and extended the offer of his own, small library in exchange. Strictly speaking Gallia was well below Aulus in the slave hierarchy, in reality she wielded as much influence as the overseer. Severus had found an ally.

After an afternoon toiling in the garden – and wasn't the old woman delighted to have a helper who could tell the difference between plants and weeds – Severus came to the evening meal with a healthy appetite. Gallia made sure he had more than enough to eat, not that anyone in the sect went hungry, but he was given the choicest selection from the slaves' simple meal. Aulus noticed and was not impressed but as Severus refused to rise to any of his clumsy baiting he subsided into sullen silence. 

Severus thanked Gallia and said goodnight to the giggling kitchen girls, ignoring Aulus' sneering comment about only being fit to associate with women, anyway. The Roman obsession with male superiority had perplexed and discomfited Severus at first. Where he came from women had equal standing with men, they were not considered weaker or less intelligent, they were not passed from male to male like so much chattel. The Greeks weren't much better than the Romans, he'd found, and as for some of the Germanic tribes…? In the interests of his sanity he'd eventually learnt to overlook this aberrant behaviour, but he was more likely to accept friendship from a woman, if only to be perverse.

Severus bathed quickly before hurrying back to his master's room; he was there waiting when the werewolf returned. 

"Your study went well, master?"  
"Well enough," Remus yawned. "Probably would've gone better if I'd had the slightest interest in Rhodian Sea Law." He yawned again. "Tired…"  
"You're recovering from a wound that would have killed a normal man, master." Severus said with some asperity.  
The werewolf half-smiled.  
"That's as may be, but I don't like feeling out of sorts. Can I have that massage now?"  
"Yes, master. Undress and lie down…"

The Roman stretched out on his bed, pillowing his head on his folded arms. Severus allowed himself a moment to appreciate the broad shoulders, strong thighs, that _arse_. There was pleasure there for him, if he could teach the Roman patience.

"What did you do this afternoon?"

Severus told him about his time in the garden, leaving out any reference to his and Gallia's mutual interests.  
"I can't imagine pulling up weeds would be very enjoyable." Remus groaned as his slave's fingers dug into the tight muscles either side of his spine.  
"I find contact with the earth and plants to be very fulfilling, master. Perhaps you could try?"  
"Get dirt under my fingernails?" He could hear the wolf grinning. "Blood is one thing, but dirt?"  
Severus chuckled, sweeping his hands down the Roman's back in broad strokes.  
"I could clean your fingernails for you, master, if it's too distressing."  
Remus laughed lightly, then fell silent as thumb tips pushed firmly into the flesh of his buttocks.  
" _Severus_ …"  
"Turn over, master." The slave whispered. 

In spite of his trepidation the sight of the Roman's erect cock prompted an answering surge of desire in Severus. No penetration, no, but there were other delights to be had. 

He teased a little, licking and nibbling before taking the solid flesh into his mouth with a sincere groan of satisfaction. Remus responded in kind, one hand twisting in the bed linen while the other found its way into Severus' hair. He watched avidly as the slave worked his cock with obvious enjoyment, finding that more arousing than he ever had with any woman. He wanted it to go on forever, but Severus scratched lightly over his testicles and the wolf was suddenly coming. 

"Better, master?" the slave murmured when Remus had finally stopped shuddering.  
"Yes." The Roman croaked. He stroked weakly across Severus' abdomen. "You?"  
"Would you like to watch, master?" the slave whispered.  
Remus nodded mutely. He wriggled over to make room on the pallet, and rolled on to his side.  
"Lie down." He could smell his slave's hesitation and was again shamed by his lack of control last night. "By my word, I will only watch."

Severus' inclined his head gravely, then in one smooth movement drew his tunic over his head and set it aside. The wolf's fingers twitched to remove the man's loincloth, but he'd promised not to touch… Severus gave him the smallest of smiles and unwound the cloth himself. He climbed on to the bed, settling himself on to his back.

"Look at me." Remus urged in a hoarse undertone. 

The slave turned his head to lock eyes with him then very deliberately licked his palm before reaching down to stroke himself. The werewolf kept his distance, though it was difficult. He wanted to touch, he wanted to taste and when Severus finally climaxed he greedily drank in the man's scent. 

The slave went to move but Remus forestalled him with a light touch on his forearm.  
"Stay." He invited. 

Severus nodded then doused the single lamp. He lay still as the werewolf edged close enough almost to touch.  
Remus fell asleep with his nose less than a hand span from Severus' shoulder, but when he awoke the next morning the slave had moved back to his own bed. 

 

Between that eventful full moon and the next Severus settled into the routines of his master and the sect. As he thought it might, his standing amongst the slaves increased when he began treating them, but Aulus was continually aggressive and derogatory to his face. The overseer may even have been trying to sow seeds of dissension over him. He'd spotted the man in close talk with Artorius, and while not being near enough to hear what was being said, the considering look the elder priest gave him afterwards was evidence of his suspicions. Not that it mattered; he was here because it was Remus' desire and no one was going to gainsay _him_.

Through careful questioning of his master and those of the slaves that were knowledgeable, Severus was able to discern Remus' actual status within the sect. He wasn't a priest, he was a holy object, a tool to divine the will of the Gods, and as such was honoured and cared for, with all of his needs, wishes and desires met – within reason. 

Tullius was the senior priest and it was clear he was fond of his charge, and clear, also, that he understood him better than Artorius ever could. It was Tullius who not only turned a blind eye to the – some would say unseemly – dependency the werewolf was developing for his slave, but also deflected his colleague's sometimes discourteous intrusions. There was more going on here, however, than Severus could pin down. Every so often he would catch Tullius regarding the werewolf with sadness and it made him uneasy.

The private life of slave and master was satisfying to a degree Severus would've been hard pressed to believe possible even weeks ago. 

It had been with a sense of heavy resignation he'd watched Artorius alight from his litter and march into the Greek physician's consulting rooms. Severus had been aware of the wolf's desire for him and he'd guessed then that the priest was there to fetch him. Cleon hadn't wanted to sell his highly trained slave but the offering price was high, and really, who – especially a non-citizen - could say no to such a powerful Roman and expect to stay in business?

"I'm sorry, Severus." Cleon had smiled grimly, perhaps suspecting the true reason for the wolf's interest in his slave. "Fortune favour you."

Severus had been sorry to leave. The Greek was an exacting, sometimes harsh master, but he recognised and rewarded intelligence. All that Severus had learnt about healing he'd been taught directly by Cleon.

But life with his new master was… good. They weren't equals, never that, but there an easy camaraderie forming between them, a flow of communication that seemed to go beyond words. And after their clumsy beginning the sex was getting better and better. Remus was fearless in this, willing to try anything that Severus could suggest, or that he could imagine. More significantly though, the werewolf had let himself be talked into being penetrated, despite his unreasonable dread about the 'womanly' aspect of the act. Severus had moved him slowly along the path over several days, seducing him first with tongue and fingers, helping him learn to appreciate his body's responses. He was eager for the experience when Severus finally took him, welcoming the slave into his body with joy and affection.

Afterwards they lay tangled together on their sides, breathing in gentle harmony, not needing to speak. Severus was on the verge of sleep when he felt the brush of lips against his forehead. He half-smiled, relaxing as the werewolf tightened his arms around him. For the first time since his arrival at the sect, he didn't leave his master's bed that night. 

The night before full moon, master and slave again lay close together, sated and content. Remus' chin rested on Severus' shoulder, an arm draped over his stomach. 

"How did you become a slave?"  
"Is it important, master?"  
"No. I'm just curious."  
Severus considered the request. It really wasn't any of the Roman's business, but there was no harm in him knowing, he supposed.  
"I killed the wrong person, master, and as punishment I was sold to a slaver."  
"The wrong person?" Remus echoed. "Was it an accident?"  
"No, master, quite deliberate. I was repaying a blood debt; he just wasn't the one I was supposed to kill."  
The werewolf had pushed himself up on to an elbow and was frowning down at his slave.  
"You were _meant_ to kill someone?"  
"Yes, master, it was part of my function."  
"I don't understand…"  
Severus half-smiled, reaching up to touch his finger's lightly to the Roman's cheek.  
"You're not meant to, master. Your people have Mysteries of which they cannot speak, so do mine. I can say that all I killed had been justly sentenced to death."  
" _All_ you killed? How did you – ?"  
The slave pushed a finger gently against Remus' lips.  
"Please, master, no more questions."  
"Just one more?" Remus grinned as Severus rolled his eyes. "If that last was unlawful, why did your people not put you to death?"  
The slave shrugged.  
"It's considered very bad luck to kill one of my clan. Selling me out of the country meant the onus of my death would be on a foreigner."  
Remus quirked an eyebrow.  
"That's devious."  
"Merely practical, master, only a fool would invite bad luck."  
"And your clan agreed to it?"  
"Yes, master, as did I. I accepted the consequences of my actions."  
"Who's blood were you avenging?"  
"A friend." Severus said shortly then turned over on to his side, back to the werewolf. "Please, master…"  
Remus immediately cuddled in behind him, moulding his body to the slave's and kissing his shoulder.  
"No more questions." He agreed quietly.

Evening of the next day and they were waiting in Remus' chambers. The werewolf was pacing, unable to sit still. He kept glancing at the door, then the window and back again. Severus sat quietly on his pallet out of the way. There was nothing he could do to alleviate his master's agitation; well, not when his master was due to be fetched any moment by the priests. He quickly pushed aside his lascivious thoughts. Even if they weren't about to have visitors it was still too close to the full for comfort, or safety. Remus must have caught his scent, however. The wolf took a step towards him, his eyes burning.

"I wish…"  
"I know, master." Severus murmured, forcing himself to calm.  
There was a knock, and then the door swung open.  
"Remus?" Tullius was smiling at him. "Time to go."

The werewolf glanced at the priest, who'd conveniently turned his back, then pulled Severus to his feet, clutching the man to him in a fierce, possessive, wholly arousing embrace. He kissed him, bruisingly, then wrenched himself away to join the elder in the corridor.

"See you in the morning."  
"Don't get gored again, master." Severus called after him as he walked away.  
"I won't." 

Remus grinned back over his shoulder - and the slave's heart turned over in his chest. 

_Oh no_ … It was the height of idiocy for a slave to fall in love with his master, but then, this wasn't the first werewolf he'd loved. There was no escaping fate, it seemed.

Severus had slept badly, partly because he half expected Aulus to come while his master was away and 'teach him a lesson', as he'd threatened on many occasions, but primarily because he missed the wolf. He didn't presume to sleep in his master's bed but had curled up alone on his own pallet. There had only been rare instances in his life when he hadn't slept without someone else nearby and the isolation, the silence, felt unnatural. He continually started awake at the slightest sound, unconsciously listening for the wolf's howl, and so was far from rested when Tullius came to collect him.

"He may not be hurt," the priest had murmured as they hurried through the compound. "But he will appreciate your attentions. I'll have food sent to his rooms."

The heart of the sect lay below ground, in a series of sturdily constructed interconnecting chambers. 

"It is a privilege for you to be here." Severus was sternly informed. "Normally this area is only open to high-caste Romans."

The slave made a desultory attempt to appear properly humbled and awed, but in reality he just wanted to get to Remus as quickly as possible. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as an uncanny ululation began. The sound wasn't quite animal, but neither was it fully human.

"He's changing." Tullius said softly. "It won't be long now."

They'd joined Artorius in front of a locked and barred, metal banded wooden door; Severus could smell the blood emanating from the other side.  
The eerie sound died away. The priests glanced at each other and Tullius nodded. Artorius produced a large brass key and unlocked the door.

 _Carnage_ …

Blood and bloodied hunks of meat and bone had been thrown all over the place, and lying in the middle of it all was Remus, naked, human and frail.  
Tullius pointed to another, open door in the corridor to their right.

"Take him in there. There's warm water and wash cloths waiting. _Touch nothing_ as you remove him."

Severus picked his way through the remains of the bull to the werewolf's side.

"Master?" he squatted down and gently touched stroked the man's face. Remus' eyes fluttered open, looking remarkably clear and bright amidst the dried blood caking his face.  
"I'm not hurt." He was barely audible.  
"I'll help you stand." Severus got his arms around the lean body, lending his strength as the Roman struggled to his feet. "I'll wash you, then you can rest."

Remus nodded mutely and together they manoeuvred their way out of the chamber, leaving the priests to get on with the grisly business of reading the Gods' will. Severus smirked to himself: if only noble Romans were allowed down here, did that mean only noble Romans could clean up the mess? It was a satisfying thought.

The adjoining room was bare save for a simple wooden table, large enough to accommodate the werewolf. Severus sponged the gore from his master's body and hair, checking for injuries as he went. There was nothing significant - a few scratches and a bruised cheek. Remus fell asleep as he was bathed, making his slave smile. Severus understood the Roman's inability to keep his eyes open was mostly due to the post-moon lassitude, but still, to fall asleep while so vulnerable implied trust. He let the Remus doze only until he was clean and dry then Severus lightly shook him awake.

"You'll be more comfortable in your rooms, master." 

The wolf nodded sleepily and allowed himself to be dressed, then supported by his slave he stumbled back to his chambers. 

Severus had his master to himself for a full day. The werewolf mostly slept, true, but it was peaceful and the slave was ridiculously pleased to simply be there to care for him. Remus was an undemanding convalescent, though it was hardly an onerous duty to feed him, or hold a cup to his lips while he drank, or suck him to a unhurried, gentle climax that eased him into a deeper sleep.  
When night fell he curled up beside his wolf and tentatively considered himself truly happy for the first time in a long, long while.

~~~oOo~~~

Life went on. The moon waned and waxed. Severus worked in the garden, produced his medicines and tended his master. Every smile from the Roman, every affectionate touch tangled him deeper in Severus' heart. It was a stupid, hopeless love but he wasn't going to fight it, not when he could look into his master's eyes and see the love reflected...

Three days before the next full moon, he and Remus were sitting together in the _peristylium_. They were debating the merits of one historical account of a particular battle against another when Artorius, accompanied by a hesitant young boy, a slave by his clothes, appeared briefly at the entrance before crossing to the corridor leading to one of the compound's outer buildings. 

At his side, Remus froze.

"Master?" Severus enquired, intuitively alarmed. "Who was the boy?"  
"If he survives the next full moon he'll be my replacement."  
Severus could only stare.  
"What?"  
"If I don't kill him while I'm changed, then he will become the new _sanctus_."  
"… and what happens to you?" There was dull dread growing in the pit of the slave's stomach as Remus smiled bleakly.

"I will be sacrificed to Janus…"


	3. Chapter 3

_No_.

Severus had fled to his stillroom, where he sat now on the floor in a corner, knees drawn up to his chest, his back pressed against the wall.

_Remus was not going to die._

He hadn't meant to run but the sight of the werewolf sitting there, so calm and sad, so accepting of this atrocity… He'd wanted to hit him, he'd wanted to shatter that acquiescence in blood and anger. Instead, he'd run. 

_He was not going to let this werewolf die as well._

"Severus…?"  
The slave hid his face in his knees.  
"Severus…"

He could feel Remus' startling heat as he sat close beside him and slid an arm across his shoulders. The wolf nuzzled his hair.

"It will be all right." He whispered.  
"No, it won't." Severus let the anger build. He twisted suddenly, gripping the front of the Roman's tunic with both hands. "Do you want to die?"  
"It's… it's my duty – "  
" _Do you want to die?_ " he snarled into Remus' face, watching as the stoic mask crumpled.  
"… no." The wolf looked lost, hunted and fearful. Fear was good, fear meant he was still alive.

Severus' anger, his own fear, protectiveness and love coalesced in to a desperate desire to possess the wolf. He pushed Remus to the floor, simultaneously tearing at his loincloth. No time for finesse; he spat into his hand then slicked the scant fluid over his penis. He shoved the werewolf's legs aside then positioned himself on his knees. Remus grunted as he was roughly penetrated, his lips drawing back in a hiss. If Severus had been in his right mind he might have noted the not-quite fear in Remus' wide, amber eyes, or wondered at the complete lack of resistance the Roman offered. As it was he was too focused on the need to somehow stave off his master's death by dominating his body.

"You are mine!" He growled as he thrust sharply over and over. "Your god can't have you."  
" _Severus_ …" 

Remus whispered, curling his arms around his neck and his legs around his hips, and then, bizarrely, he was coming. Bizarre from the slave's point of view because up to that point he'd forgotten that Remus was a separate entity with his own needs and desires. That the wolf had seemed to respond positively to the rough handling was too much for Severus to comprehend; he buried his face in the crook of Remus' neck and shuddered out his climax.

Sanity returned and with it the knowledge of what he'd just done. Mortified, apprehensive, Severus tried to pull away, only to find himself held in place within the cage of Remus' limbs.

"Don't turn away from me." Firm lips nuzzled the corner of his mouth. "You don't want me to die?"  
Severus shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.  
"Open your eyes. Look at me."

The slave obeyed reluctantly, expecting to see… he didn't know what - anger? recrimination? – on his master's face. The good-humour and quiet affection tore at his heart.

"There's no one else I'd attempt to deny a god for, Severus." The good-humour faded into sombreness. "I don't want to die – but I can't see a way clear." He winced involuntarily as he dropped his legs to the side.  
"Forgive me..." Severus blanched, disengaging from the Roman's body as gently as he could.  
"I'm tough." Remus chuckled, lying still as his slave tended him.  
"We could leave?" Severus suggested, selecting a numbing ointment from his stock.  
The Roman shook his head.  
"I can't just leave. It would be… wrong, immoral, to deny Janus my blood. I've lived under his grace for more than twenty years, I owe -"  
"You owe _nothing_." Severus grit his teeth. "I know how often my previous master treated you, and for what sort of injuries. You've shed enough blood in your god's service."  
"Maybe," Remus said softly. "But they're not going to simply let me go."

Privately, Severus felt a fierce surge of triumph: that had been the first time the wolf had identified himself as separate from the priests. It was a small step on a long road.

"We'll think of something." The slave knelt again between his master's thighs, this time to apply healing to the flesh he'd previously abused.  
"Let's get through this next moon first. The boy may not survive." Remus was quiet. "I've already killed two others."

Severus stared, horrified, not that the wolf had killed but at the callousness with which he'd been deliberately put in that position.  
"It's a risky matter, this transfer of power." Remus was trying to smile. "I certainly wasn't the first offering for the one that turned me."

Severus helped him stand.  
"Were you a slave?"  
"Yes." Remus sighed. "I don't remember anything much before coming here, though. After I was turned, and the old Remus sacrificed, I was freed and granted all the rights of Roman citizenship."  
"They gave you the name, as well?" Severus smiled mirthlessly. "Romulus did originally kill his brother, I suppose. They're just keeping up the tradition."  
Remus managed a shaky laugh. He cupped his slave's cheek.  
"Rest with me? We both need it, I think."

Lying together on the bed, Remus dozed but fretfulness had kept Severus awake. There had to be a solution. With preparation and effort he could probably call on his dormant _magus_ abilities but how, exactly, to use them? He had nowhere near enough information to formulate any sort of plan. That then – gathering intelligence - must be his first task. After the evening meal, when they were alone again, he would see what Remus could tell him about this 'transfer of power'.

The potential new Remus' arrival hadn't gone unnoticed. Aulus sidled up to Severus as he made his way across the compound to the slaves' quarters.

"Have you seen the boy?" the overseer smirked. "Will you wait for that one to grow hair on his balls, or will you begin corrupting him straight away?"

Severus had had enough. He whirled on the fat slave and, with a nasty smile, held his hands out in front of him, long fingers twisted in a sigil that was actually meaningless but looked arcane and menacing. 

" _I curse your soul to lie outside your ancestors' protection for evermore!_ "  
The overseer blanched, stumbling backwards with his mouth flapping.  
"You can't – "  
"I can. I have." Severus drew himself up to his full height to glare down his nose at the shaking slave. "Leave me alone or it will be worse than you fear."

He smirked after Aulus' fleeing form. As curses went that hadn't been particularly original – he used to have a genuinely inventive flare for it – but it seemed to have struck a nerve. What had been far more interesting however, was the faint, brief tingle of energy he'd felt in his fingertips. Perhaps it wouldn't take that much effort to reawaken his gift. 

It was dark and quiet in his master's rooms; Severus lit a lamp then settled on his bed to wait. He was both eager and anxious to hear the werewolf's story. Eager, because the sooner he had the facts the sooner he could plan; and anxious in case he discovered there was nothing he could do to save his master. 

No, there had to be _something_ , he couldn't contemplate life without Remus. With a sudden clarity of thought the slave recognised the absolute truth of the statement. If Remus died, so would he, by his own hand most likely, or slaughtered by the Romans for attempting to rip out their throats… He almost smiled at the image of himself as a berserker. He was a warrior trained, he could and had fought in pitched battles in the past and not once had he lost his composure, his ability to think. Remus being killed would strip away his rationality. More than that, if Remus died he wouldn't care anymore…

Severus contemplated his master's origins. He wasn't Roman, he'd been a slave, either born or bought. He was fair and broad: who were his true people? Mixed blood Northern European, at a guess, he wasn't swarthy enough for the South. From the Alps, perhaps? Germanic? There were tribes in Albion to which he could belong. Iceni? He had the look… 

Remus eventually returned, giving his slave a tired smile.

"They had the boy eat with us. I hate that. Poor thing, so confused and afraid." 

He flopped down on to his bed and stared at the ceiling. Severus immediately went to his side. Removed his master's sandals and went to work on his feet, rubbing and kneading the tension away. 

"How am I supposed to be civil towards a child I'm going to maim, if not kill?"  
"Do you remember when you were first brought here?" 

Severus was almost shocked to realise he wasn't addressing the werewolf as 'master' any more and hadn't done so since the distress of hearing his fate. Remus hadn't appeared to notice, however.  
The werewolf grinned.

"I remember the food. So much of it! Other than that, very little until the transfer."  
"Will you tell me?" Severus lay down beside the wolf, cuddled in to his side. He watched the Roman's face as he took himself back twenty years or more.

"It was night. I was in a small room with just a single lamp to stop me being afraid of the dark. There were no windows and only one door. I tried to open it but there were no locks, no handles." Remus shivered, unconsciously pressing close against the comfort of his slave. "And then I heard the noises. Dreadful noises, that seemed to go on and on and on. I know now it was the sound of the lycanthrope changing and then killing the bull, but at the time… I was so frightened I shit myself. I do remember that. The noises stopped, or seemed to, and then some time later the door opened. The smell almost made me sick. There was no light coming in from outside, just what my little lamp was throwing out, then… something came out at me from the shadows."  
He shuddered, and Severus draped an arm across his stomach, pulling him closer. He brushed a kiss over the wolf's temple.  
"Go on."  
"… I don't remember much, just… eyes. Horrible, malicious eyes. When I woke up I was in a sunny room, my room, and I hurt."  
"When was the older lycanthrope killed?"  
"Not for a couple of months. We went through at least two changes together, I think. We stayed together so he could pass on his 'knowledge'." Remus gave his slave a rueful smile. "I didn't like him much, he was a brute. Sent me flying more than once when he was angry. If I hadn't been turned, if I hadn't been able to heal quickly, I would've been dead at his hands within a week."  
"Was it a relief when he was gone?"  
"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But it wasn't. The changes terrified me but – monster that he was – the old Remus was a point of familiarity."  
Severus kissed the Roman's jaw.  
"Can you remember how he died?"  
"Oh yes." Remus said after a moment. "I remember that very clearly." 

There was such a long pause Severus thought he might have to prompt the wolf again, but then Remus continued.

"Early in the morning, while it was still dark, Tullius took me down in to the temple, to a room I'd never seen before. Artorius was there, with the old Remus and a pair of guards. The old Remus looked ghastly. Staring and shaking. Sweating. I thought he was sick. Then Artorius tied his hands behind his back, and the guards picked him up and laid him face down on the altar, with his head hanging over the edge. He looked at me and said – 'Remember this, boy, this is your fate.' And then Artorius slit his throat."

Appalled, Severus wrapped himself around his master. He was reluctant to ask any more questions, Remus was shivering in his arms, but he needed as much information as possible. 

"Was there more to the ritual?"  
"The blood was caught in a silver bowl, and when… and when it was full Artorius offered it to Janus. I think he poured it over an image of the god – I'm not sure, I wasn't paying attention."  
Severus stayed quiet, sensing there was more to come.  
"I didn't see what happened with the bowl because all this time the old Remus was looking at me. I couldn't look away. He kept bleeding, and bleeding, and he was convulsing, but he kept looking at me until he died." Remus' voice trailed away to a whisper. "I had nightmares for years."  
"What happened to his body?" Severus murmured.  
"He was cremated at sunset. Like any proper Roman citizen." The wolf turned desperate eyes on his slave. "Severus..."  
"I won't let you die like that, I promise." Severus kissed him. "I have something to help you sleep without dreams, if you like."  
"Please." 

He'd had the foresight to have the mixture handy. He gave it now to his master and watched over him while he drifted into a deep slumber. The slave then gave himself a small dose; he needed sleep, too. He had more questions - he needed more details - but that would have to wait until the morrow.

Sect life continued on towards the next full with a semblance normalcy. All was well on the surface of things but there were deep undercurrents of tension winding about the compound. 

The slave boy was kept out of sight most of the time but Severus was _aware_ of the intruder's presence, if only in how it affected his master. Remus was by turns falsely cheerful and openly despondent. He was dreading the coming full moon. 

Severus did what he could to distract the wolf over the next day and night, resorting to sleeping and calming draughts when exhaustive sex failed to bring rest. He resisted the urge to prompt his master for more memories; Remus was too distracted.

Significantly, they were left alone during this time. Severus suspected Tullius' hand in that.

Remus asked his slave to accompany him to the underground chamber. Tullius said nothing about his being there, and though Artorius pursed his lips in disapproval, he also made no comment. Remus gripped his slave's shoulder tightly as the door was opened, but that was all the contact the wolf would allow himself for comfort. 

The bull was there, tethered to the wall, but there was no sign of the boy. Severus could only assume he'd already been installed in the side chamber. Remus gave him a small, desolate smile, and then he was sealed within the room.

Severus would have stayed on vigil outside the chamber all night, given the choice. 

"You must leave." Tullius said, not without sympathy. The slave nodded dully and walked alone up out of the temple, leaving the two priests to their work. 

Severus spent a sleepless night huddled on Remus' bed, trying not to think. Early the next morning, as he had at last full moon, he followed Tullius underground and helped Remus stagger out of the chamber. He settled the drowsy werewolf on the table in the adjoining room and was preparing to wash him when Tullius entered, carrying the limp form of the boy in his arms. There was room enough on the table for both of them, both werewolves. 

Severus watched with mixed feelings as the boy's wounds began to close before his eyes. Remus would be pleased at least that he hadn't killed another child.

Severus gazed down impassively at the unconscious boy. Tullius had gone; Remus was asleep – he could kill the child and no one would be the wiser. He hadn't survived the transfer, such a shame…  
A touch on his elbow brought him back to himself.

"Don't hurt him." Remus pleaded in a whisper. "It's not his fault."  
Severus drew in a shuddering breath, and nodded…

The new Remus, Macula, shared their quarters. He was given Severus' pallet and - in a show of quiet defiance – Remus openly took his slave into his bed. 

"I don't care what they think, I want you with me." He'd growled when Severus had expressed his concerns.

Macula was a biddable child, reasonably intelligent and not given to bad temper. He and Remus instinctively drew together as _pack_ and again Severus was appalled at the breathless cruelty of the Romans. They would give the boy the comfort of a pack and then snatch it away, leaving him to face his frightening changes alone. Either the priests had no true understanding of the importance of pack to wolves – were or otherwise – or they knew exactly what they were doing and forcing their new acquisition to accept _them_ in its place. Severus wouldn't put it past this diabolical race. 

With the business of the 'transfer' more or less complete, Remus settled in to a state of fatalistic acceptance. He believed his destiny was sealed but Severus was still fighting. Remus had talked freely about his early days with the sect, answering his slave's questions as best he could. Severus hoarded the small pile of details, poking and prodding the information as he wondered how best to use it in the limited amount of time they had left. 

In essence, they had three obstacles to overcome. Keeping Remus alive through the sacrifice and getting them both away from the sect afterwards; knowing where, precisely they could go for safety; and making the journey there with an unrestrained werewolf.

The 'where' was simple enough. Severus knew of at least one werewolf village hidden in the Carpathian mountains that had become a refuge for exiled lycanthropes. It would be – not simple, precisely – but not difficult to get in contact with them through magus channels. He was sure they would offer sanctuary to Remus and himself. Of course, given the opportunity, Severus would have dearly loved to go home, but he was dead to his people and home was denied him.

Now, as to the 'how' of having Remus survive the sacrifice, that was much trickier. Remus was still arguing vehemently against the suggestion that they simply leave before he could be killed. The werewolf was still deeply superstitious about denying the God his debt of blood, but also – he'd reasoned – if they ran away they would only be hunted down. As a _magus_ , Severus was privately convinced he could make them both vanish, but Rome had a long reach and they would always live with the threat of being discovered. That threat would not be something to ingratiate them with potential allies. No, better to deceive the Romans with some sleight of hand, make them think all had gone as they'd planned. With their lycanthrope safely 'dead', would they bother overly much with one runaway slave, no matter the secret knowledge he possessed? 

After some careful thought Severus believed he had the means to carry out the ruse successfully. It would require a profound amount of trust and bravery from Remus, however. But first – there was little point helping the wolf escape if he was only going to turn on Severus at full moon. The slave needed to find a way to ensure his own protection, and to do that he had to leave the compound for a few days. 

Severus' official reason for leaving was that he needed to replenish some stocks of ingredients, items that couldn't be found locally. He said nothing to Remus about his true intentions: the less the werewolf knew of the plans the better.

Remus had said: " _Don't be gone too long_ …" What Severus heard however was " _Please come back_."

He fancied he could almost smell the wolf's anxiety. The slave took his master's hands as he kissed his forehead. 

"I will not leave you."  
Remus had straightened up, mustering a smile.  
"Go then. Safe journey…" 

Both Remus and Macula had been looking out for his return. The young werewolf, from his perch on top of the compound wall, had spotted him first. He'd dropped down so quickly Severus had been worried he'd break a limb but within moments Macula was out on the road, laughing and running excited circles around him. 

"Nuisance." Severus rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond. 

Remus waited by the gate and though their initial reunion had been subdued, later - when Macula was asleep - Remus had physically demonstrated his pleasure in having Severus with him again.

"I said I wouldn't leave you." The slave murmured into the drowsy wolf's hair. "Trust me."  
"I do." Remus had whispered, moulding himself to the length of Severus' body. "I do."  
Severus could hear again the fear in his wolf's voice and he held him tightly while he slept.

Macula's first full moon was approaching. This would be a dangerous time for the young boy. He could be fatally injured if he attacked the sacrificial bull, or, the elder lycanthrope could see him as a challenger and kill him. Remus was being determinedly relaxed, talking quietly with the boy about what he could expect. He was frank but kept his explanations simple, and Severus wasn't sure how much Macula understood. But the young werewolf was unafraid when he walked with Remus into the underground chamber. 

For his part, Severus had his own reasons to be afraid. He had indeed returned with medicinal ingredients but hidden amongst those were two objects that, if found, could be hard to explain. The first was a slender wand of teak wood. _Magus_ , especially those with limited ability, used these wands as tools, a means of focusing their will. Severus was, or had been, a powerful _magus_ before his exile. He'd once been able to work without need of an outside focus - but it had been so long he wasn't confident of his skills anymore. At the very least, the wand would help as he retrained himself. 

The other item…?

Severus fingered the palm-sized, embossed silver disc, feeling the tingle of power nipping at his skin. The artefact was Dacian, very old, and very rare now that the Roman's had all but obliterated its country of origin. Severus slipped the chain over his neck and tucked the disc into his tunic. To borrow it, he'd had to call in two favours and make the promise of another owed. At the very least the amulet would supposedly prevent a werewolf attacking him, at the best – depending on his strength, and the strength of the wolf – it could give him some measure of control over the creature. For now, not being attacked would be enough.

At the darkest hour of night Severus prepared to face the werewolves. He cast a spell on himself, one he'd used many times in the past in the performance of his duties. He'd made sure to practise it before tonight, however; it'd been a long time and he'd been concerned that he'd lost the knack. He needn't have worried; the incantation had slipped from his mouth as smoothly as wine from a jug and he'd smiled as he felt the enchantment fold around him like a comfortable old cloak. 

He'd tested its effectiveness, naturally, and had spent a goodly amount of time trailing Aulus around the compound. The overseer had been oblivious to his presence, as had others they'd encountered – though Gallia had frowned once in his direction before shaking her head and getting back to work. It had been a profitable exercise in more than one respect, also. Petty pilfering by the slaves was tolerated, even expected, in some large households, wholesale theft, however, was something else entirely. Severus had decided to keep his knowledge of Aulus' doings to himself for the moment; he might need it as leverage.

Severus was confident the spell had worked but _over_ confidence could led to sloppiness. 

He moved slowly, keeping to the shadows as he made his way down into the torch-lit temple complex. He discovered the priests deeply asleep in a room near the entrance, then continued on past them to the werewolves chamber at the end of the corridor. 

Severus breathed deeply to still his thudding heart. He could hear faint movement within the chamber and it would be a lie to say he wasn't scared half to death. He hooked the disc out of his tunic so it lay bright and gleaming against his chest then, gripping his wand tightly, the _magus_ closed his eyes and willed himself to the other side of the door. 

He could smell the blood…

Hyper aware of the sudden stillness in the room, Severus opened his eyes – not that it helped, the darkness was absolute and oppressive. With a whisper he conjured a soft light at the end of his wand.

In all his dealings with werewolves in the past he'd never come face to face with one transformed at the full. 

The beast was _huge_ , considerably than a normal wolf, its rough head level with his sternum. Those jaws could snap off a leg without any effort. 

The wolf – Remus – padded closer, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. Severus held his wand steady in front of him even as his bladder voided warmly down his legs. The wolf's nostrils twitched and he lowered his head to snuff at Severus' groin. The slave held perfectly still for the examination – which seemed to go on for an unnecessarily long time – and didn't relax when the wolf pulled away. The creature then sniffed at the silver disc but recoiled, his muzzle wrinkling in disgust before he backed up a step or two. Severus breathed out, cautiously optimistic, but stiffened again as he caught movement in his peripheral vision. He'd forgotten the other werewolf.

Macula was much smaller, definitely cub-like, but his bite would be no less dangerous. The younger lycanthrope edged forwards, ears flat and lips pulled back to reveal his teeth. He didn't get within reach, however, before the elder were snapped at him, growling. Macula yelped and retreated back in to the dark, tail between his legs. 

The display of aggression was unnerving and Severus decided he'd been there long enough. He willed himself back out to the corridor, only remembering to extinguish the radiance on his wand when he found himself blinking in the comparatively bright torch light. 

Shaking, he crept out of the temple and back to his master's room, where he didn't cancel the veiling spell until the door was firmly shut. He removed the disc and returned it to its hiding place, before stripping to sponge himself clean of cold urine. 

He slid into his master's bed, curling in on himself in an attempt to still his persistent shakes, and wondered if Remus had been protecting him or Macula when he'd warned the cub away. It wasn't important, though. The amulet had worked, he would be safe from the wolf at full moon; now he could he could plan to save his master from having his throat slit…


	4. Chapter 4

Macula, snot-nosed and tearful, snuggled into his progenitor's side. 

"Will it always hurt, Remus?"

The elder werewolf smiled sadly as he brushed the boy's hair back from his forehead.

"Yes, it will. But as you grow and become stronger it won't hurt for as long. Here, Severus has something to help you sleep..."

Macula grimaced comically at the medication's taste but didn't protest and within minutes he was curled up asleep. Severus gently transferred him to his own bed.

"How will they treat him?" The slave had undressed and climbed in beside his master, who sighed and nestled close. "He won't be given a bull when he's this young, surely?"  
"Sheep and goats to begin with." Remus replied, sleepily. "Then pigs and calves. They won't let him come to any undue harm."

 _No_ – Severus' thoughts were like bile in his mouth - _it would be far too much trouble to acquire another lycanthrope should the current captive die_. He held his tongue, however.

"He will have a good life, though." Remus said softly. "Twenty years or more." 

Severus nodded but again said nothing. It hadn't taken much deliberation to understand why the Romans' 'transferred' their lycanthropes at the age they did. It was done while the creatures were still relatively youthful, before they came into their true strength and power. Add to that the fact that an older werewolf was less likely to leave a human victim alive and it made sense to dispose of them sooner rather than later. The Romans were a lot of things but you could never call them impractical.

"How much do you remember?" Severus nuzzled Remus' cheek. "From when you're a wolf?"  
"Pain before and after, but nothing in between." The wolf sighed. "Given what I wake up to, I don't really want to remember."

Ah. So Remus would have no memory of his visitor last night. That was probably for the best. 

"Severus…" Remus whispered his name and the slave smiled a little, shifting to lie over his master. He knew the wolf well enough to discern the unspoken desire. 

Remus hissed in pleasure, arching up as their cocks brushed together, spreading and lifting his knees to cradle his slave's waist. He reached between them with one hand to hold their burgeoning erections in contact while cupping the back of Severus' skull in his free hand and pulling him down to kiss. That was the limit of Remus' active involvement given his exhaustion, but Severus was more than willing to take up the slack.

They slipped gently against each other until the need for completion forced a faster, sharper pace. Remus climaxed first with a shudder and a sigh then lay sleepily content and quiescent as Severus used the emission to facilitate his own orgasm. 

Trembling, he gasped into his master's shoulder as Remus wrapped his arms around him. When he'd regained his breath Severus made to move away - to fetch a cloth to clean them both as he always did. Tired as he was, however, Remus wouldn't let him move.

"Leave it." He smiled into shadowed eyes. "I like smelling of you."

Severus made a show of shaking his head but settled gratefully at his master's side. Pressed close together they soon fell asleep.

 

To further his plans Severus needed to leave the compound for a couple of days. He was loathe to walk away from Remus - the thought of returning to the sect to find his master had already been killed brought the slave out in a cold sweat. The night before he left he cast a simple alarm spell on his sleeping master. If the wolf felt himself in danger Severus would be alerted to return, which he could do now in the blink of an eye. 

Severus left the compound the next morning hoping fervently that the Romans would remain as predictable as they were brutal. Remus was certain he had at least one more full moon with Macula before he was taken but even so… 

It was an anxious time for Severus, a fact not lost on his _magus_ contact. 

Blerim was a large, blond Gaul, exiled to Rome much as Severus had been, though he'd arrived as a free man and had built himself a profitable business importing specialist foods. He was also a lynchpin of the European _magus_ network and a trusted friend. It was through Blerim that Severus had acquired his wand and the use of the werewolf amulet, and it was Blerim now who helped define and finalise the werewolf's rescue. He had magical knowledge that Severus did not and between them they had hammered out the details. 

Severus had returned to the sect easier in his mind, and with his leather satchel stuffed full of obscure and useful ingredients.

Remus' eyes had lit up when he saw him. He approached his slave with a smile, outwardly casual, but Severus could see the tension ebb from his body with every step. 

"I missed you." The wolf breathed.  
"I will always return." Severus had vowed softly, and much as he'd wanted to scoop his master up and bear him away to their rooms he'd remained a respectable distance away and kept his head lowered. Artorius was observing them, a frown etched deeply on his face. Hardly a wonder, Severus mused; the priest would've had to be blind not to see the affection radiating from the werewolf's face, his posture. 

"Remus. You have study to complete." 

Artorius' censure was gratingly obvious but Severus couldn't find it within himself to care, not when he'd seen the sensual promise in his wolf's eyes. 

Severus never volunteered any information about the rescue plan and Remus never asked. The closest he came to inquiring was the first time his slave handed him a small measure of a strong-smelling brew. 

"What's this?"  
"Something to fortify your blood." Severus had replied, letting the implications hang in the air like smoke. 

Remus had nodded, choked down the thick liquid, then changed the subject.

Macula appeared to be oblivious to any undercurrents but he grew quieter and more solemn as the full moon approached. He remembered the pain but was doing his best to imitate Remus in his apparent unconcern. The full was inevitable as was the change – it was best to simply carry on with life as normal until then.

Once again Remus requested his slave accompany him to the underground chamber, and once again – much, much later that night – Severus willed himself into the room with the lycanthropes. 

Remus fairly ignored him this time, sprawling on the floor with a gruesome hunk of bull between his paws. He only looked up from cracking bone when Macula slunk a little too close to the human, then he snarled and the cub backed off. 

Admittedly Severus had never had any contact with werewolves in their lupine form but Remus' behaviour went against the conventional wisdom. Was it just the amulet keeping him safe? Was he not being attacked because the lycanthropes had already killed and were feeding? Or was it something more? Did Remus, on some level, recognise him, or at least recognise he wasn't a threat? Whatever it was, Severus could only trust it would be enough to keep his master from turning or killing him when they were away from the security of the sect's underground temple.

Tullius, with Artorius at his side, sought out Severus the following morning, after the slave had seen to the weres' comfort. Tullius' expression was closed, and that in itself was enough to prompt an icy spike of fear to form in Severus' gut.

"The boy," the priest said. "Are there any problems with the change?"  
Severus couldn't speak: he shook his head.  
"The boy is healthy?" Tullius pressed. 

The priests exchanged a look at the slave's curt nod then turned as one and walked away. Severus' head swam and he fought for breath. He suspected he might have just sealed his master's doom. 

Remus confirmed his suspicions with a heavy nod.

"It won't be long now." His shoulders slumped. "Poor Macula."

Severus would have spoken sharply about the wolf needing to feel more for his own plight than the boy's, if he hadn't understood that Remus was comparing his early experiences with Macula's likely fate. The boy was going to be abandoned, with no pack to guide him and no comfort through his changes - of course Remus was empathising strongly.

"Do you remember your birth name?" Severus asked.  
"No." The wolf shook his head. "They said I was now Remus, so Remus I became." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I dutifully forgot everything, my name, my mother… I was so scared; I only wanted to please them."  
"You can't be blamed for capitulating." Severus whispered into his hair. "You were just a child."  
Remus twisted to bury his face in the slave's neck.  
"I don't want to die."  
"You won't. Not at their hands." Severus' arms tightened around his master's shoulders. "You have to go through with the ritual, but I will _not_ let you suffer."  
The wolf nodded miserably.  
"I trust you." He sighed, a tremulous breath against Severus' skin. "I'm so tired. I don't want to think any more."  
"Sleep then." Severus murmured, lying them both down on Remus' bed.

He stroked the wolf's hair, as much to soothe himself as his master, and before long he felt Remus gradually go limp in his arms. 

"I will keep you safe." Severus whispered to the sleeping man. "On my life, I will keep you safe…"

 

The next few days dragged past on a knife edge of tension and foreboding until, finally, a downcast Remus returned to their rooms one evening to tell his slave that the priests had decreed this night to be his last. 

The two men clung together for several long moments, Severus holding the trembling man tightly, willing the wolf to take strength from his resolution. 

"Macula is with Tullius tonight." Remus voice caught. "They've allowed us this time alone at least." 

Severus growled, twisting his fingers in the wolf's hair and yanking his head back.

"This is _not_ our last time together! You _will_ survive."

Remus desperately wanted to believe him, he could see it there in his eyes. Severus kissed him then with hard passion, willing the wolf 's trust, or failing that to distract him at least.  
His strategy appeared to have worked. Remus pulled back and the fear was gone from his face, replaced by something equally primal. 

They grappled - Remus pushing for dominance and Severus resisting just enough to be a challenge without putting himself at risk of injury. The wolf howled as he pushed in to his slave's body, a sound of life affirming joy and defiance. Severus howled with him, hoping fervently that their combined cry could be heard throughout the compound. Let _them_ hear and understand the challenge! 

Remus slept surprisingly deeply, it was his slave who could do no more than doze in fitful starts. Consequently the wolf was clear-eyed and calm when Tullius came to fetch him before dawn, while Severus felt as if his eyes had been bathed with gravel. As for calm? Not in the least, unless it was the kind of calm descending from battle readiness. The _magus_ tingled with the power coiling behind his sternum. He was primed to fight for Remus' life. 

Tullius led them down into the underground temple by torchlight. The priest didn't demur at Severus' presence but stopped him from accompanying Remus when the lycanthrope was instructed to bathe. Severus' jaw clenched but he acquiesced; he would have preferred to administer Remus' final preparation in private but it should make no difference if Tullius was witness. 

The lycanthrope emerged, damp and shivering, barefoot on the cold stone and wearing only a simple white tunic. 

" _Don't_ touch him." Tullius instructed sharply as Remus reached for his slave. 

Severus almost growled, at Tullius, and at his own complacency. Remus hadn't simply bathed, he'd been ritually purified. Thinking quickly Severus turned to Tullius. 

"Please, Lord, I have something for my master. It will… It will help ease his way." 

Severus' voice broke on the last word and he dropped his head, not willing to let the priest witness his sudden, genuine distress. Tullius stood silent before holding out his hand.

"Give it to me."  
Severus withdrew the small vial from his belt pouch. The priest weighed it in the palm of his hand.  
"What is it?"  
"A combination of herbs." The slave answered almost truthfully. "A sedative, numbing."  
Tullius stared thoughtfully at the dark glass, then passed it over to Remus.  
"Take it. It's against custom but…" his voice was rough. "I would spare you any suffering."

Remus uncorked the vial with difficulty. His hands were shaking and Severus was afraid he would drop the potion before he had a chance to imbibe it. The tremors ceased, however, the moment the liquid passed over his tongue.

"Tastes like cloves." The werewolf noted, handing the bottle back to Tullius. "Thank you." He murmured to his slave. 

Severus inclined his head though he couldn't in truth take the credit. He hadn't had the time or facilities to brew anything other than simple medicines and so he'd had to rely on Blerim to supply something more suitable. 

With his physician's training Severus marked the subtle changes in the wolf's physiognomy. Remus visibly relaxed, blinking slowly over constricted pupils, and he paled as the blood receded from his extremities. The potion appeared to be working. Severus allowed himself a flicker of a smile: he hadn't been lying about the sedative effect but that was secondary to its capacity to cushion a body against the shock of blood loss. 

Severus had anxiously analysed the information he'd prised from Remus and there was no escaping the fact that the spilling of blood was central to the ritual. Remus had to bleed, it was unavoidable, but Severus had laboured to minimise the impact. He believed he could judge, and manipulate, the line between too little and too much blood.

"It is time." Tullius smiled sadly. Remus nodded and his dull eyes sought those of his slave.  
"All will be well." Severus whispered, and the wolf nodded again, seemingly reassured by the simple words. 

They followed Tullius deeper in to the temple, stopping finally at a door draped with a simple leather flap. The elder pulled the edge of his toga over his head, shadowing his face as he slipped into his official role as a Priest of Janus.

"Wait here." He ordered the slave. "You cannot enter."

Severus ground his teeth together but obeyed. 

Remus smiled at him, a soft sweet expression, then at Tullius' urging pushed past the hanging and out of sight. Severus watched and resisted the instinctive desire to grab his master and just _go_. No, he had to be patient; their safety and future hung on successfully deceiving the Romans. 

Tullius took a moment longer to gather himself – his regret was as clear as day to Severus – before he followed Remus through the curtain. Severus waited until he heard the murmured intonation of prayers then grasped his wand and cast the veiling spell on himself. Moving quickly and quietly he slipped in to the sacrificial chamber. 

It was a small space, lit only by the two braziers placed either side of the primitive wooden statue of the two-faced god directly facing the entrance. The fragrant heat suffused the chamber, making it close and stuffy: Severus could feel the sweat begin to prickle down his spine. 

A stone table – the altar - lay oriented towards the god. Remus was already there, lying prone with his arms at his side and his head hanging over the end. Two guards, with Macula positioned between them, stood against the left-hand wall, side on to the altar. Severus sidled to the right, grateful for the dim light, until he was at the other side of the altar. From there he could see Macula's wide-eyed confusion and fear… and Remus' incipient terror. Potion or not the werewolf was shaking. Severus quivered in empathy but didn't move; he couldn't act yet. 

The priests were in front of the statue, their arms raised, palms turned upwards as they chanted in unison. The chanting stopped and Tullius threw a handful of incense in to one of the braziers. The smoke billowed thinly to the ceiling and Macula coughed. The priests exchanged a glance then moved to stand either side of Remus, forcing Severus to shift further in to the room and closer to the statue for an unobstructed view. 

Artorius held the bowl; Tullius, the knife. The elder priest tenderly cradled Remus' head, lifting it up to expose his throat. He murmured something then suddenly the bright blade moved and the werewolf's blood was fountaining. 

It had happened to so quickly Severus was immobilised with shock for a heartbeat, two, before he lifted his wand. With a whispered word Remus slumped unconscious. Macula wailed and would have darted forward but for the guards' hands on his shoulders holding him in place. A distant part of Severus' ached for the boy but he was too focused on his task to spare much thought for anything else. 

The knife, he'd realised with dawning horror, was silver. The werewolf might recover from the loss of the blood but silver poisoning? 

The bowl was full, brimming with an amount Severus knew even a human could likely survive. Artorius straightened up and turned to face his god again, holding the bowl high in offering. Tullius gently lowered the werewolf's head and as he did Severus cast two spells in quick succession. The first was to send Remus' body into a magical stasis. He wouldn't breathe, his heart wouldn't beat, but most importantly he would lose no more blood. To all intents he would appear dead… until revived with the counter spell.

Severus' second spell was for camouflage; a simple enlargement charm that made the small amount of blood on the floor seem like much more, as if Remus had bled out fully. 

Somewhat numb, Severus edged out of the room; that was as much as he could do for his master until he could access his body later. Alone again in the corridor he took a deep breath of the relatively cool, clear air then dropped the veiling spell - just in time, as it happened. The guards emerged, practically carrying a weeping Macula between them. The boy caught sight of the slave and wailed his name.

"Sev'rus! Remus…"  
"Go quietly, Macula." Severus called after him – the guards hadn't stopped – "I will be with you shortly."

Artorius swept out of the chamber. He ignored the slave, in fact he looked thunderous and disgusted. Severus soon found out why.

Tullius' eyes were red-rimmed and his voice was hoarse.

"I know you were more to Remus than a slave. Will you do this last service for him? Prepare him for burial?"

Severus nodded, not trusting himself to speak. This was ideal. He'd planned on having to sneak back down here but Tullius had offered him a perfect opportunity to complete the second part of the plan.

The priest came with him in to the chamber, helping him turn Remus over on to his back. Severus looked at the ruin of his master's throat and couldn't suppress a sob. It was deep, and even in the poor light he could see the blackening of the flesh where it had come in contact with the silver. If he couldn't get the wound to close… 

"Please, Lord." He whispered, raising his eyes to Tullius', a plea for privacy.  
The priest nodded.  
"Don't take too long. The boy will need you…" 

Severus listened, making sure that the priest had left before casting a distraction charm on the chamber door. Anyone coming near would forget why they were there and wander off. It wouldn't last for long, however. The slave quickly bathed his master's throat and face in the available water; it would look suspicious if the water remained clear. He tucked the coarse linen shroud into his tunic then gathered Remus' body in his arms. 

Severus looked directly at the representation of the two-faced god.

"He's served you well." He whispered fiercely. "Let him live. Let me have him." Then he took several deep and steadying breaths before concentrating on willing himself and his burden to a hidden room in Blerim's storehouse. 

Torches sprang to life as Severus materialised in the small, windowless room. He laid the wolf's body down on a wooden table and bent to assess the damage. It was bad, very bad…

"Severus." Blerim had appeared moments later, alerted by the warning charms he had in place. "How is he?"  
"They used silver."  
Blerim swore.  
"Go. Leave him with me – I'll make sure the stasis holds."  
"Thank you – " Severus smiled bleakly up at the looming blond, only to find himself crushed to Blerim's broad chest in spine-cracking embrace.  
"Go safely, my brother."  
Severus nodded, gently disentangling himself.  
"I'll be back before the next sunrise." He glanced over at a long, cloth-covered bundle on the floor in front of a shelf. "Is that the replacement?"  
"Yes."  
"Who?" Severus pulled back the sheet, revealing a deeply-lined face that sagged gauntly in death.  
"A slave. Died several days ago."

Severus' nostrils twitched but he could smell nothing but the dust in the room. The stasis spell, when used on dead flesh, prevented putrefaction: there was a reason Blerim's foodstuffs were always fresher than his competitors'.

Severus quickly wrapped the cadaver in the shroud intended for Remus, securing the cloth tightly around the cold form. He gently picked up the body, nodded to Blerim, cast one last, long look at his Master, then willed himself back to the underground temple.

 

The switch went smoothly - nobody bothered to check the shrouded body – but Severus couldn't relax until the funeral pyre was lit and 'Remus' reduced to ashes. 

Expressionless, he watched the flames consume the unknown slave and couldn't help his thoughts turning to Blerim's storeroom. Remus was free – if he survived. Severus _itched_ to get back to the wolf, to be doing _something_ to help him heal. What if Blerim couldn't hold the stasis? What if Remus bled to death while he, Severus, was here watching his substitute burn? The slave fought down the panic, forced himself to calm. Soon, very soon, he could leave, but not yet. 

Macula stood between the priests, watching the fire with horror. Aside from the funeral rites, the new Remus had been given over to Severus' care for most of the day. Severus had coaxed him to eat and kept him dosed with a mild sedative. That was wearing off, he could see; it was time for something stronger so that the boy would sleep without dreams. 

Tullius also appeared to be aware of Macula's distress. The elder priest murmured something to his colleague then marched the boy around to were Severus stood. 

"Take him." He touched his fingertips to Macula's hair, a fatherly gesture, and the boy twisted to gaze up at him. "Go with Severus."

Macula nodded dully then reached out to grasp Severus' hand. He heaved a shaky sigh and allowed himself to be led away.

The boy accepted the honey-sweetened draught without comment then curled up on Remus' – now his – bed, head pillowed on his hand.

"Why did they kill him?" Solemn, dark eyes were fixed on Severus' face.  
"I cannot tell you." The slave shook his head. "You'll have to ask the priests." He stroked the young wolf's cheek. "Tullius is a good man. He will take care of you."  
Macula yawned, his eyelids fluttering as he fought the effects of the medicine.  
"I miss Remus." He whispered.  
"As do I…" Severus continued stroking the boy's cheek until he finally fell asleep. 

Severus let himself doze. Sitting on his pallet with his back propped against the cold stone was enough of a discomfort anyway to prevent deep sleep. Not that true sleep was possible, however, not when his mind was whirling with concern for Remus. Macula continued to slumber though he shifted uneasily more than once. 

The compound was somnolent in the hours just before dawn, its residents inattentive: Severus judged it time to be going. Without relighting the lamp and running the risk of waking Macula, he had to retrieve the silver disc by touch alone. In retrospect it might have been an idea to find somewhere else to hide it other than beneath Remus' mattress…

"Sev'rus?"

The slave inwardly cursed, then sighed philosophically. It was perhaps better for Macula to witness his departure rather than to find himself inexplicably abandoned on the morrow.

"Did I wake you?" He murmured.  
"What are you doing?" 

Mindful of the werewolf's excellent night vision, Severus carefully palmed the disc out of sight within his tunic, then reached out, groping for Macula's hands. He clasped the boy's fingers.

"I'm leaving. I'm going to be with Remus." It wasn't a lie.  
"But," Macula sounded bewildered. "Remus is… is dead."  
Severus didn't reply, letting the boy draw his own conclusions, which he did soon enough.  
"You can't! You can't leave me!"

The slave gathered him into a tight embrace, hushing him and stroking his hair.

"I don't expect you to understand until you're much older, but… I can't live without Remus."  
"But – "  
"I can't stay here without him." Severus held the quivering child. "Tullius will look after you. And Gallia, the cook, you can trust her."  
Macula snuffled wetly into Severus' tunic.  
"I like her. She gives me cakes." 

The slave had to smile at that, a young boy's priorities. 

"They will want to call you Remus. Let them - " He overrode Macula's instinctive protest. " – but never forget your real name."

He felt the boy nod against his chest, then – with more of a twist to his heart than he'd anticipated - Severus pulled away. 

"I'm going to give you some more medicine. You will sleep peacefully."

"Don't go." Macula whispered, anguish evident in his wobbly voice.  
"I'm sorry. I must." Severus dropped a kiss on the top of the boy's head. "Be strong - honour Remus with your courage."

He stayed with Macula until the boy once again fell asleep, then carrying only his wand and the moon disc, Severus readied himself to leave. He thought regretfully of his scrolls and the few small trinkets he could call his own, but as an apparently distraught suicide it wouldn't make sense to take anything with him.

He was confident that that was precisely how the priests would interpret his actions – bolstered by his words to Macula - but what's more it would make perfect sense to them. The Romans were all for pointless self-sacrifice.

Lifting his head, Severus mastered his fatigue then willed himself away from the sect of Janus…


	5. Chapter 5

He materialised in the storeroom, momentarily swaying on his feet but Blerim was there to steady him. Severus blinked back exhaustion even as he automatically catlogued the astringent scent pervading the small space. _Dittany_ …

"How is he?" Severus pushed away from the Gaul, his need to see Remus overcoming courtesy.  
"The stasis is holding." Blerim was sombre. "But he's beyond my meagre skills, I'm afraid."

Severus nodded absently; he was checking the herbal poultice wrapped around the wolf's throat. He approved of the Gaul's choice of crushed dittany, it's what he would have used himself. 

"Are you confident in your ability to heal him, my brother?" Blerim continued. "Because if not, there is a witch, very powerful…"  
"Who?"  
"If she has a name I've never heard it uttered. I know her only as 'Mother'."

Severus frowned, considering. An uncomplicated wound – though mortal – he could have dealt with easily enough, but a silver wound on a werewolf…? No, he needed help. 

"Where is she?"  
Blerim shrugged.  
"I don't know. She's… secretive. I can take you to her, though."  
"I would appreciate it." Severus made to pick up Remus' body.  
"No, not yet. You must sleep." The Gaul squeezed his shoulder. "If you try to shift now you'll leave half of yourself behind!"  
Severus lowered his head, feeling the exhaustion wash over him at last.  
"Please, you _must_ rest." Blerim urged gently. "Your wolf is in no danger for the moment."  
"Very well."  
Blerim beamed.  
"I'll be back shortly…" He winked out.

Severus stroked Remus' hair back from his forehead, observing the faint chill of his master's skin. Remus wasn't dead – the warmth would return.

Blerim reappeared with an armful of furs and woven cloth. He shook the lot out on to the floor, creating an appealing bed for his guest.

"Are you hungry?" Severus shook his head. "We'll eat later then, before we leave. Sleep well." Blerim disappeared again. 

Sighing, Severus bent down to brush a kiss over Remus' immobile lips.

"Come back to me." He whispered, breathing in to the wolf's partially open mouth. 

The slave – ex-slave now, he supposed – all but collapsed on the pile of bedding and determinedly closed his eyes. He needed to sleep though he doubted he would…

 

Severus jerked awake some unidentifiable time later, his heart thumping and his mouth dry. 

It was completely dark – the torches were inert – and with no windows in the room he couldn't begin to guess what time of day it was. He scrambled clear of the bedding, wincing as the sudden flare of magical light seared his eyes. It took a moment for him to adjust, by which time he'd found his way to Remus' side. Severus breathed out in relief, the wolf hadn't bled to death while he slept.  
The torches flickered as Blerim's sudden arrival created an eddying of the air.

"It's gone midday." The blond informed him with a slight and knowing smile. _Of course_ that would have been his first question. "How is he?"  
"No change." Severus scrubbed his hand across his face.  
"Good." He handed over a rough pitcher of watered wine, and a wooden platter piled with bread, cheese and cold meat. "Eat now. We'll leave as soon as you're ready." 

He winked out, to return a few moments later with a selection of clothing. By the bright patterning of the weave Severus could guess they were Blerim's own garments. He suppressed a rueful smirk: they'd be huge on him, Blerim carried considerably more bulk than he did. 

Severus ate and drank gratefully, washing down the hastily chewed food with great gulps of wine. 

"Thank you." He handed the utensils back to his friend. "Might I impose a little more on your hospitality?"  
Blerim grinned.  
"You wish to bathe? I'll bring you some water…"

The Gaul didn't bother to hide his amusement.

"You'll be warm at least!"

Severus rolled his eyes. Blerim's tunic and braecci did indeed swim on him. Without the belts holding everything up and together he would've been tripping himself over! He smoothed his palms over the finely woven wool encasing his thighs; after so many years in a slave's tunic it felt odd to have his legs covered. 

Blerim passed him a large rectangle of relatively sobre cloth and a solid brooch. 

"Put that on now, it'll be cold where we're going." He chuckled. "It's always cold."  
Severus fastened the cloak around his shoulders.  
"I'll return all this to you when I can."  
Blerim waved him off.  
"I have more than enough clothes to suit my needs. I have some extra packed for your wolf, too, he'll need something other than that flimsy excuse." Blerim indicated the not-quite as pristine short tunic Remus was still wearing.  
"I _will_ repay your help." Severus stated firmly.  
"I'll bear that in mind if I need anyone poisoned!" The Gaul grinned. "Are you ready? Do you need help carrying him?"  
"No." Severus checked the poultice one last time before scooping the wolf into his arms. "He's not that heavy." He murmured, letting Remus' head roll naturally to rest against his shoulder.  
"If anyone can help it's Mother." Blerim said softly.

Severus nodded, curtly smothering any trace of doubt and fear.  
"Let's go."

 

Their sudden arrival caused a minor flurry amongst a sizeable flock of assorted fowl. 

"Be careful of the birds." Blerim murmured. "Mother is very fond of them."

They stood at the edge of a clearing in an old forest. Severus could feel the trees like watchful sentinels at his back. 

The space in front of them was well ordered with clear paths between the garden beds, and two round, stone buildings that looked as if they'd been squatting there for a long, long time. There was a curl of smoke winding up through the apex of the larger building's conical, moss and mud roof: the smaller building was roofed with overlapping slats of wood, and both had substantial timber doors.

A woman's voice sounded close behind them. 

"Ah, you're here. Good."

Severus hadn't heard her approach and as he turned to face her he swiftly masked his surprise. 

'Mother' appeared ancient but for all her white hair, twisted hands and fragile skin she stood almost as tall as the ex-slave. Her rich brown eyes were clear and sharp and there was no denying, either, the aura of power around the witch. It raised the hairs on Severus' arms, made his eyelids prickle. 

She was swathed in furs - not unusual given the apparently mountainous region in which she dwelt - but there was something about the way she wore them that suggested to Severus that Mother was a native of a warmer, Eastern climate. 

Blerim greeted her with a deep bow then introduced his companion. Mother accepted Severus' brief nod with equanimity then motioned him forwards.

"Let me see."  
She peered under Remus' eyelids and pulled back the poultice wrappings to frown at the knife wound.  
"How long 'tween cut and stasis?"  
"A matter of moments."  
Mother made a clicking sound with her tongue; Severus thought it sounded like approval.  
"Take him inside. There is a table."

The interior of Mother's stone and thatch dwelling was clean and snug. Bundles of herbs hung around the walls, as did thick and colourful rugs. There were similar coverings over the floor but they were kept well clear of the fire pit in the centre of the dwelling. To one side was a raised pallet, heaped with furs; to the other, a bare wooden table. 

Severus laid the wolf down and waited. Mother shuffled in, moving with a pained, creeping gait. Severus guessed her feet would be as twisted as her hands but it was clear she was determined to get about by herself. 

Blerim cleared his throat.

"I must return."

Mother smiled at him and though her teeth were far from perfect Severus could see the remainder of a potent beauty flit over her features.

"Visit again, yes?" She lifted a cloth bag, the one Blerim had tucked in with the bundle of clothes. "Bring more of these excellent sausages."  
"I will." The Gaul grinned, eyes twinkling. "And some of that wine you like so much."  
Mother nodded solemnly but there was mischief in her expression.  
"Ah yes. The cold is coming – I will need the wine."

Severus was ready for Blerim's hug this time and escaped with merely bruised ribs instead of a crushed spine.

"Thank you, my friend." He gripped the Gaul's forearm.  
"Good fortune, Severus." Blerim smiled encouragingly. "Let me know how it goes." He bowed deeply again to the witch then disappeared. 

Mother scowled.

"I tell him over and over not to do that inside. It raises dust." She lifted her chin and fixed Severus with a stern gaze. "We must have everything ready before we begin…" She waved her hand and a small ball of _magus_ light sprang into existence, hovering high above the table.

Severus was directed to make up a bed on the floor beside the fire – using more of the furs – then fetch a bowl of the water that had been heating over the coals. Mother asked him to remove the poultice from Remus' throat, strip the wolf then wash his wound thoroughly. 

She spent several long minutes examining the gash while Severus looked on, trying and failing to mask his apprehension. Blerim had said this woman could help Remus… but what if she couldn't?

"The wound I can heal, but the silver in his blood is a problem. A surface cut would have been dangerous enough but this is deep." She turned bright eyes on the ex-slave. "He has a chance, but 'twill be a harsh time."

Severus breathed past the constriction in his chest. 

"Please."

Mother reached in to her clothing and pulled out a gently curved knife – of plain bronze, Severus was distantly relieved to see. She held it awkwardly in her contorted fingers, but tenderly, lifting it to her mouth where she… crooned to it. The witch's magic was older and wilder than anything Severus had encountered before but Mother had absolute control and he was less disturbed than he otherwise might have been.

"Hold the wound open." Mother ordered.

She worked quickly, paring the blackened flesh away in fine strips until the healthy tissue was revealed, red and glistening. Mother waved Severus' hands away before setting aside her knife with a pained grimace. The fine control must have cost her dearly.

She closed her eyes and began to croon again, her fingers resting inside the gash. Severus watched, awe-struck, as Mother healed the flesh from the inside out, the tissues melding together under her influence. 

The witch lifted her hands from the wolf's throat and forced her eyes open. She was trembling, clearly exhausted, and Severus slipped his hand beneath her elbow, lending her support without being too obvious. He half expected rejection but her smile was grateful. 

"That should hold, but I can do nothing about the scar." Mother sighed at the red and angry line of raised skin slashed across Remus' throat. "Wake him."

Severus gripped his wand tightly enough to drive his knuckles white. He murmured the incantation, waiting for a breathless heartbeat for Remus to react. The wolf woke, gasping and flailing, automatically clawing for his throat. The magus dropped his wand and dove forward, clasping Remus' hands and pulling them down.

Panicked amber eyes fixed on his face. 

"Am I dead?" His voice was rough.  
"No." Severus squeezed cold fingers. "You're alive."  
"Macula?"  
"He is safe – "

But Remus had already fallen limp.

"Sleeping." Mother reassured Severus. "Get him into bed, then go there yourself and hold him." She quirked an eyebrow at his expression. "He can still slip to the other side, he needs to know there is someone on _this_ side to come back for." She hobbled towards her own bed, easing herself beneath the covers. "I will rest, too. We all need to rest…"

Severus settled the naked wolf amongst the furs then after a moment's hesitation, shed his clothes and climbed in beside him, wrapping long limbs around his master. He kissed Remus' cheek, painfully glad to feel the warmth returning.

"I'm here." He whispered. "Stay with me…"

It felt like Severus had only just managed to close his eyes when he was wrenched awake by Remus' violent shivering. The werewolf was drenched in sweat, his teeth chattering, and though his eyes were open Severus wasn't sure he was actually conscious.

"Ah…" he heard Mother's voice behind him. "I thought this might happen."

Unmindful of his nudity Severus flung himself out of the bedding. 

"I'll need cloths, something to wipe him down." 

The bowl he'd used earlier was still sitting on the table. He emptied it quickly, expediently tossing the contents outside before refilling it from the pot by the hearth. Severus knelt beside his master and peeled back the furs. Remus' skin was blotched with patches of livid red where it'd reacted against the traces of silver in his sweat. Severus wordlessly accepted a bundle of rags from Mother then focused his attention on the wolf. He washed the sweat away, changing cloths frequently to prevent recontamination, until Remus finally stopped shivering and lapsed back into a true, if restless sleep.

"It's too much to hope that's the end of it." Severus muttered, wiping his hand across his forehead.  
"I think so." Mother handed him a stoneware beaker. "See if you can get him to drink this."

Severus sniffed the contents; honey and water… 

The wolf was lethargic and largely unresponsive but Severus managed to coax most of the liquid down his throat, then, feeling worn around the edges, he lay back down beside Remus. He should rest while he could.

 

The cycle of fevered sweats and near unconsciousness dragged on for another two days with Remus seeming to waste away before Severus' eyes. But then the ex-slave wasn't in much better condition himself. If Mother hadn't occasionally prodded him away from his vigil to eat and drink he would have undoubtedly overlooked his own health. Severus was profoundly grateful for the witch's support. He could've tended Remus on his own but Mother's swift and intuitive help made it so much easier. 

She'd tilted her head to one side and regarded him impishly when he'd thanked her.

"You could repay me by warming my bed." 

Severus hastily composed his expression into one of polite interest, but not quickly enough. Mother laughed and reached up to pinch both his cheeks.

"Ah, your _face_!" She chortled. "Don't worry, I'm making a joke with you. You're not one for the women, I'm thinking." She flicked a glance towards the sleeping werewolf. "But you would make the effort for him. Good." She patted Severus' shoulder and smiled. "Good."

Remus had ceased sweating by the third night but now he did nothing but sleep for all except a short part of each day. During that brief interlude of wakefulness Severus made sure the wolf drank as much sweetened water, weak wine or broth as he could stomach. He wasn't ready for solid food yet and that was to be expected, what concerned Severus, however, was Remus' lack of true lucidity. He gazed around but didn't appear to see anything and there was barely a flicker of recognition when he looked at his former slave but – and this Severus found heartening – his voice was soothing to the wolf. Surely though it shouldn't be taking him this long to recover? 

"He was _murdered_." Mother had said. "A trauma to body and spirit. We will have to wait and see how strong his will is."

All very well but the full moon was approaching and Severus would have much preferred for Remus to be coherent before then.

"He can stay in the storehouse during the full." Mother offered. "It can be warmed, he won't be uncomfortable."  
"I'm not leaving him on his own."  
The witch _tch'ed_ at him.  
"Are you insane? Frail as he is he's still a werewolf. He _will_ try to attack."  
"He won't." Severus said firmly.  
"So sure are you?" There was a trace of anxiety beneath Mother's mocking tone.  
"I am." Severus fumbled for his pouch and withdrew the silver disc. He passed it over to the witch. "I've tested it twice."  
Mother shook her head slowly.  
"You _are_ insane." She examined the artefact closely then gave him a sharp look. "It works?"  
"Not only was I not attacked the first time I used it, the wolf backed away." Severus' lips twisted into a wry smile. "The second time he ignored me."  
"He's weakened, your presence will be a threat…"  
"If I'm distressing him I'll leave, but I will not abandon him."  
Mother continued to stroke the disc, thoughtfully.  
"I have poppy syrup."

Severus nodded agreement, though he didn't like the idea. The narcotic would calm the wolf, slow him down and hopefully stop him damaging himself if he tried to escape. Severus' jaw clenched; there were so many variables. This would be the first change Remus had gone through without having ready prey available. It was a sobering thought, but between the drug and his _magus_ abilities Severus was certain he could get away quickly enough should the wolf choose to see him as an outlet for his aggression.

Remus became increasingly restless in the hours before full moon though he never fully awoke. Severus patiently trickled drop after drop of the poppy syrup into the werewolf's slack mouth, leaving ample time for the narcotic to take effect before the moon rose. 

Well before the sun's light had left the forest clearing he carried his master through to Mother's storehouse. He'd spent the past day clearing and securing the small, solid building and was confident that at the least the wolf wouldn't be able to escape. 

Severus settled Remus on a pile of ratty old furs in a corner, locked the door behind them then sat down to wait. He conjured a soft _magus_ light at the tip of his wand and as the day finally bled away he pulled the silver disc out of his tunic so it lay gleaming against his chest. 

Severus kept a tight rein on his emotions but there was no denying completely his fear. He'd given Remus enough poppy to render a human insensible for hours but he couldn't be sure what affect it would have on a werewolf, even one as weak and ill as this. Severus gripped his wand tightly; no matter the outcome he was ready. 

Though he couldn't see it he knew the moment the moon rose. Remus' eyes snapped open and for an instant the man was fully conscious, staring over at Severus with horror. 

"No. _Leave_ …" he grated.  
"I'm safe. You won't hurt me -"

But Remus was already changing and it was doubtful he'd heard or understood.

Severus was on his feet without thought, instintively poised to flee yet compelled to watch as the curse took effect. 

He saw the human disappear, screaming as he was torn in to rags when the wolf ripped its way clear. The prolonged scream became an agonised howl and the transformation was suddenly, shockingly, complete. Barely daring to breath, hands shaking, Severus lifted his glowing wand to better observe the werewolf. It lay there, quivering with rage and fear, its paws scrabbling feebly for purchase against the furs and packed dirt floor. Severus shivered, debating the wisdom of staying. Mother had been right; wounded and weak the wolf was even more dangerous now.

Not taking his eyes from the creature Severus reached up to retrieve one of the rabbit carcasses he had ready. The wolf growled and flinched as the morsel landed within range of his jaws but it was ignored as Severus found himself under intense scrutiny. There was distrust and cold calculation in that yellow-eyed stare, no sign of Remus and no hint of anything resembling human intelligence. 

Severus held himself perfectly still and dropped his gaze enough that he wasn't looking directly at the werewolf while still able to catch any movement. The wolf's lips drew back in a silent snarl then, apparently not deeming the human worth consideration, turned its attention to the rabbit. Severus watched obliquely as the wolf did little more than lift its head to snuffle the small body. However, even that small expenditure of energy seemed to exhaust the lycanthrope and it dropped back to the furs. 

Severus breathed out slowly as the great yellow eyes drifted closed, but he didn't relax. He was tired and there really wasn't anything more he could do. Should he stay? To lose concentration could be fatal. 

Caution won out and Severus willed himself to the other side of the door. He hunched down against the wood: wrapped in _magus_ -warmed furs he'd be comfortable enough, and close by if anything untoward happened. He could close his eyes… just for a little while… 

Either the wolf hadn't stirred all night or Severus had slept more deeply than he'd anticipated, but dawn was beginning to creep into the clearing when he was finally dragged awake by the agonised sounds of transformation. He shook off the furs then materialised inside the storehouse in time to see the last of the wolf vanish as the human took ascendance. 

Remus was panting heavily, his flanks streaked with sweat but there was awareness in his eyes and he smiled weakly when Severus knelt beside him. 

"Where am I?" he croaked.  
"Safe."  
"… that's not an answer."

Severus absently noted the few tufts of bloody fur, all that remained of the rabbit. 

"Can you walk?"

Remus grimaced and pushed himself upright – or tried to. His arms trembled and he couldn't quite bring his legs beneath him. Severus caught him before he collapsed.

"That's 'no', then." Severus' lips twitched at Remus' rueful snort. "You're still recovering. Don't expect too much." He lifted the wolf into his arms.  
"Recovering from what?" Remus frowned, letting himself be settled against Severus' chest. "I don't remember..."  
"We'll talk later." Severus briefly nuzzled his sweaty hair before shouldering open the door. "You should rest."

Remus nodded, sighing, and closed his eyes. He stirred briefly when set down in front of Mother's fire pit, flashing Severus a brief smile before falling asleep again.

"How is he?" Mother murmured from her bed.  
"Better, I think." Severus stroked his fingertips over Remus' cheek. "More aware."  
"Perhaps the change burnt the rest of the poison from his body?" Mother mused aloud, her breath catching as she pulled herself from the covers. "Come. Eat something, then rest with him…"

The sun's light was slanting in through the window when Severus next opened his eyes. He'd slept on his side, the wolf cradled back against his chest, a warm, comforting weight. Severus shifted slightly to brush a kiss over Remus' shoulder, smiling to himself as it elicited a luscious sigh from his bedmate. Ah, he'd missed this, the intimacy…

"Please." The wolf whispered, plucking at Severus' hand where it lay across his waist and tugging it down towards his groin. 

Severus glanced around – they appeared to be alone – before teasing long fingers the length of the wolf's erection. Remus uttered another, less comprehensible plea, gasping as he was squeezed and stroked, keening softly when he quickly climaxed. 

Severus muffled a groan in the wolf's hair as he rubbed himself against the cleft of that delicious arse – but, it was clear Remus was struggling to stay awake. Severus stilled. 

" _Shhh_. Sleep…" He kissed Remus' neck.  
"But, you…"  
"I'll survive. Go to sleep."

Remus sighed, his body relaxing, and he was asleep within moments. Severus wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled close to the wolf, ignoring his throbbing cock trapped between their bodies. He could wait until Remus was awake and they could both participate.

 

Two days on from the full and Remus' was visibly improving. He was still weak and spent much of his time asleep but he was alert when awake, and his appetite was returning. 

Severus had introduced him to Mother, explaining no more than that she was a friend who had offered them refuge. Remus accepted this sketchy explanation at first but as he healed and his mind became clear he was increasingly curious and less inclined to be diverted from his questions. Severus knew it wouldn't be long before he had to be more forthcoming; Mother said as much to him one evening.

"You can't avoid his questions for ever." The old woman narrowed her eyes. "He wants to know what happened. What will you tell him?"

Severus concentrated on his bowl of stew and said nothing, but that didn't deter Mother in the least. 

"Your wolf, he is not one of us. Would you lie to him? Would you take him to live amongst _magus_ without preparation?"

Severus scowled a warning - though Mother was speaking softly - and glanced towards the fire. Remus still looked to be asleep.

"I haven't thought much on it." He shrugged, doing his best to convey indifference.  
"Well you should." Severus' scowl deepened and the witch pressed on. "You care for him, yes? Then be honest." She leant forward, closer, touching his knee and smiling. "He won't run away."

Severus' expression froze: that was precisely what he feared. Remus, no matter his heritage, was a Roman. Would the truth of magic shock him to anger or escape? 

Mother patted his knee again.

"'twill take more than that to drive him off." She pushed herself to her feet and away from the table. "Finish your food. I must bring my birds in…"

 

Severus knew better than to offer to help with Mother's mixed flock of chickens, ducks and geese. The birds didn't know him well enough to trust, though that didn't stop them crowding close over night. That was, the ones that didn't roost on Mother's bed. At least it must be warm for her beneath all those feathers. 

He scraped up the last of his stew then rinsed the bowls and utensils. Outside in the twilight he could hear the old witch calling to her small-brained companions. She treated them like children, no wonder she refused to eat any of them; all that perfectly good meat going to waste. The eggs were welcome, however, and with the regular gifts of rabbit and wild fowl left anonymously at her door Mother was in no danger of starving. 

The wolf was awake and watching him, so quietly Severus didn't realise at first. He spooned a small portion of stew into a clean bowl, then dropped to sit cross-legged on the bedding. He proffered the food but Remus didn't move. 

"What won't drive me off?" Amber eyes glittered in the firelight.  
"…I thought you were asleep."  
" _Tell me_." 

Uncertainty rasped through the wolf's voice, as if he was bracing himself for the worst. How much had he heard? What was he imagining? Severus sighed and pushed back his shoulders, half instinctively summoning a long unused demeanour of command and control. 

"I am a _magus_."  
Remus' eyes widened and he swallowed.  
"That's… It's just trickery – "  
"No matter what you think you know." Severus said firmly. "Magic is real. Do you wish a demonstration?" 

Without waiting for an answer he took out his wand, igniting the tip with a murmur. 

"I was born into a people whose magical abilities go back centuries. We can cure or kill with a word. We can reverse the wind and harness the sun. This - " he said softly, indicating the _magus_ light. " – is nothing."

Remus' eyes darted between Severus' face and the uncannily glowing bit of stick. The wolf seemed… frightened, perhaps, and yet fascinated. 

"Why are you a slave?" He whispered.  
"What?" Of all the questions Severus had anticipated, that hadn't been one.  
"Why are you a slave?" Remus repeated, voice stronger but still wary. "If you have the… power you say you do, why didn't you leave?"

Severus extinguished the small light and considered his reply. 

"I was exiled, remember, I had nowhere to go. I'd foresworn my birthright as part of my punishment and hadn't used my abilities in years. I only reclaimed them because you were threatened."  
Remus looked startled.  
"Because of me?"  
"Yes." Severus half-smiled. "If you hadn't been in danger I'd still be just your slave."  
The wolf was staring at him, a blush creeping up his neck.  
"Do you truly… have that much regard for me?"  
"I wouldn't have defied your god or my people for just anyone." Severus said it lightly, as if his future didn't rely entirely on Remus' response to his oblique declaration.  
"Severus…" the wolf's hand had come to rest on his thigh. "Will you tell me everything now?"  
"After you've eaten."  
"But I'll be asleep then!" Remus protested with a lop-sided grin.  
"Then I'll tell you when you wake." Severus cupped the wolf's face, stroking a thumb over his lips. Remus caught the digit between his teeth, nibbling gently.  
"Will you call me by my name? I'm no longer your master."  
Severus wasn't so sure about that, but he nodded.  
"Then you'll have to stop ordering me about."  
"I could… make requests of you. Would that be acceptable?"  
"If I can make requests of you?"  
"We have an accord, then." Remus grinned up at him, relaxed and playful.  
"We do…"

 

As he watched the wolf sleep, curled up so peacefully in their nest of furs, Severus probed his memory, searching for any hint of uneasiness in Remus' reactions to his revelations. There were none that he could see, though that wasn't to say they wouldn't appear once Remus was fully recovered and able to think beyond the immediate needs of his body. Perhaps he didn't quite believe the details of his rescue – it was a extraordinary tale – but, for the moment Remus seemed to be unfazed by having a _magus_ as a lover… 

Severus couldn't help the small smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. _Lovers. Equals_. Was it really possible? He supposed if it were possible anywhere it would be with the mountain wolves. There they'd both be leaving their old lives behind and starting anew. It remained to be seen, however, if Remus could move past his solitary upbringing and accept a place in the pack. Would he expect to be alpha? He'd deferred to the priests' authority but that wasn't the same as submitting to a pack leader… 

Severus mentally shook himself. There was no point trying to speculate on possibilities. He could only hope that Remus' intelligence and inherent good nature would prevent him from causing any more trouble than necessary. 

Remus and Mother got on very well together. The wolf accepted her alternate coddling and bullying with a bemused good grace while Mother tolerated his somewhat impertinent questions. She sometimes even deigned to answer them, and Remus appeared to understood when not to push. That the old woman was also a _magus_ didn't seem to bother Remus but – Severus reasoned, still pessimistically expecting complications – as she'd never demonstrated any magic in front of him perhaps he was able to overlook the fact. 

For the most part, however, Remus was more interested in picking Severus' brain about werewolves than _magus_. The ex-slave didn't know much about the pack they would be attempting to join but with all his experience with the Albion wolves he was able to satisfy his lover's curiosity to some extent. Remus absorbed the knowledge with the same avidity as a starving man presented with food.

 

As Remus' strength returned he took a renewed delight in sex, and now that they didn't have to hide their relationship the wolf proved himself supremely unconcerned with discretion. In fact, if Severus had a suspicious nature, he might suspect the wolf of provocation, of seeing how far he could push his more reserved partner. 

Remus, buried deeply in Severus at the time, had laughed when confronted with the suggestion.

"If you'd rather I didn't pounce on you at every chance…?" He circled his hips, grinning at the resultant gasp. "But it seems to me that Mother doesn't judge, and we have nothing to prove." He bent down to nip the sweaty skin of Severus' chest. "For the moment we're alive and _free_. I don't know what Fortuna has in store for us but I'm not going to let this opportunity slip by." 

The wolf presented a good argument and Severus resolved to make the most of the interlude. Remus was almost fully recovered and they'd have to be moving on soon – before the next full, ideally. 

 

The day they left Mother's protection the old witch had extracted a promise from them both that they would come back to visit. Remus readily agreed and he'd gently held her hands as he kissed her cheek. Mother sighed theatrically.

"Such a pity you are not one for the women, either."  
"Not any more." Remus smiled at her before directing a heated, though rather mawkish – in Severus' opinion – glance at his former slave. 

Severus rolled his eyes at Mother's beaming and fond grin then slid his arm around the wolf's waist.

"Ready?"  
Remus took a deep breath.  
"Are you sure this is safe? Could we not walk?"  
"'twill take too long." Mother patted his forearm. "Severus knows where to go. Trust him."

Oh yes, Severus knew where to go. Yesterday, Mother had _shifted_ with him to a point within the pack's territory, so he would have a sense memory of the place and be able to return. The primordial feel of her magic had been… disconcerting.

Remus shrugged the straps of his pack into a more comfortable position.

"I'm ready." His death-grip on Severus' wrist said otherwise, though.

Severus pulled him in close and kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Hold tight…"


	6. Chapter 6

Remus stumbled forward as they winked back into existence. His eyes were wide and wild, and his fingers were bruising indents in to the magus' skin. 

"Are you all right?" Severus lifted his free hand to caress the wolf's face. Remus nodded jerkily. 

"That was…" He shuddered, gathered himself, then glanced around at the looming, ancient firs crowding them. "Where are we?" He whispered.  
"I'm not sure. Somewhere in the Carpathians." Severus peered skyward, calculating the sun's position. "We need to go North. Mother said it will take at least two days to reach the enclave." He smiled grimly. "Though I don't doubt they'll find us before then."

Remus shifted nervously on his feet. His grip had slackened a little though he still hadn't let go entirely of Severus' arm.

"They know we're coming?"  
The _magus_ nodded.  
"I have friends vouching for us, so behave yourself."

The wolf's jaw snapped shut and he drew himself up to glare indignantly… before he noticed Severus' amused expression.

"Oh, very funny." He pressed forward, nuzzling his mate's lips. "I will be perfectly civilised."  
Severus relaxed into the affectionate gesture for a moment before pulling away.  
"We need to get moving. This is a wild area and I want to make as much distance as possible before it gets dark."

 

They sweated in the close and thick air beneath the trees, but perversely, if they stopped for any length of time they could feel the chill of the coming cold season begin its insidious creep into their marrow. Their packs were heavy, the sun's light watery and intermittent. 

They trudged on, up and up an incline that was harsher than it looked, picking their way over the rough ground. The firs gradually gave way to beeches the higher the pair climbed, and the air become cooler but the sense of being circled by a subtle menace never lessened. They stopped for a brief meal, pausing just long enough to hastily consume bread and meat before continuing the trek. 

They camped that night without a fire, and took turns keeping watch while the other slept. Neither of them were particularly rested but by first light they were packed and striking out once again.

Some time short of midday Remus murmured:

"We have company."  
Severus nodded but didn't break stride. He couldn't see or hear anything but he didn't doubt the veracity of the wolf's perception.  
"How long have they been there?"  
"Not long."  
"How many?" He glanced at his companion and was wryly amused to see him scenting the air.  
"Four. Do we confront them?"  
"No, this is their territory, let them make the first move."

It was only when they'd stopped to eat that their escorts chose to show themselves, gliding out of the shadows to surround them.

An older, bulky man stood before them, brawny arms hanging loose at his side. His face was seamed with scars and exposure to weather, his curly hair was cropped short and grey as marble dust. He jerked his chin at the _magus_. 

"You are Severus?"  
"I am."  
A guarded glance flickered over Remus.  
"You are the Roman wolf."  
"I am Remus."  
"Remus the Roman." Well-shaped lips spread into a unruly grin. "I wonder did your father understand the irony when he named you?"  
The wolf smirked.  
"My father had no part in it but those who did knew precisely what it meant." He held out a hunk of bread. "Will you eat with us?"  
The man regarded them unblinkingly, then nodded.  
"I am Eireniaos." He summoned his companions with a glance. "And it is my pack you wish to join."

The two men and one woman silently flanked their leader. Dressed in an assortment of clothes and furs they looked as wild as Eireniaos, but they all held themselves with dignity. Remus was staring at them with undisguised curiosity.

"Are you all lycanthropes?"  
Eireniaos grinned again.  
"I am, as is Madra." He indicated the woman. "Lal and Maximos are human." He clapped a raw-boned and serious young man on the shoulder. "Maximos is my son."  
Remus leant forward.  
"How do you live together? How do the humans stay safe? I was locked away during my change -"  
Madra growled, low in her throat.  
"There are no cages here - "

Eireniaos glanced at her and she fell silent. He turned back to Remus.

"While we run free the rest of our people take refuge in a cave. It is protected – they are safe there."  
"What about… strangers, coming in to your territory?"

Eireniaos laughed, and his companions grinned, showing their canines.

"Anyone foolish enough to be wandering around outside on the full moon deserves their fate!" He quirked a heavy eyebrow at the faintly scandalised look on Remus' face. "We are remote here. Accidental visitors are rare. We are not responsible for our moon natures, Remus the Roman, but neither do we seek to claim more kin." 

Severus silently observed the pack members during the exchange. Eireniaos was relaxed and quietly amused by Remus' inquisitiveness, much as an older dog would be amused by a pup. The others were quiet but watchful, alert to their leader's mood. If the big man stayed calm so would they. 

The pack had brought their own food and they shared it now with the two newcomers. Remus' questions stopped while he ate but he closely watched the two other lycanthropes, drinking them in with his amber eyes. Severus could excuse his lover's interest, it would be like meeting family for the first time. 

"You are a physician?" Eireniaos was addressing Severus again.  
"I am."  
"Good. We have need of your skill." He turned to Remus. "What can you do?"  
The wolf looked uncomfortable.  
"I have weapons skills, but I wasn't trained to anything, er, practical."  
"He is educated and literate." Severus spoke up. "He can read and write fluently in Greek and Latin and he has a working knowledge of Egyptian and Persian."  
Madra raised a scornful eyebrow.  
"Egyptian? Very useful here." She shot her leader a sly, sideways glance. "Could you teach the Latin and Greek? Eireniaos would prefer we didn't live as savages."  
The man grunted around a mouthful of rabbit and shrugged his shoulders.  
"You look strong, fast." He stated when his mouth was empty once more. "Can you hunt?"  
"Don't know." Remus confessed. "I've never been hunting." He flushed at the disbelieving stares of the younger wolves. "I was never given the opportunity."  
"It doesn't matter." Eireniaos cut across the tension. "You will find your place in the pack, Remus the Roman."  
Remus smiled, grateful.  
"Thank you -"  
"But do not think to challenge me." Eireniaos rumbled, locking eyes with the younger lycanthrope. His pack members stilled, waiting.  
"No." Remus dropped his gaze, then looked up with a lop-sided grin. "Not yet anyway."  
Eireniaos stared at him, then threw his head back and laughed.  
"' _Not yet_ …'" He wiped his eyes. "Ah, you have a long way to go before you're ready for _that_."

Remus and Severus, escorted now by the pack members, continued their journey up the mountain. Eireniaos had sniffed the wind before advising them that they would have to spend another night in the open, but they should be settled within the enclave well before the following night. 

Half-way through the afternoon, Maximos and Lal peeled away from the group without a word, disappearing off into the trees.

"They are catching our food." Madra explained. "There's a river nearby."  
"Do you regularly hunt this far out?" Severus asked.  
"Sometimes. Before the snows. We have to travel far to make sure we have enough food for the Winter." She flicked him a look. "There is only so much even a _magus_ can do."  
"How many _magus_ are with the pack?" Remus asked.  
Madra held up nine of her fingers.  
"This many." She folded down all but three of her digits. "This many are wolves."  
"How many wolves all together?" Remus' eyes were very bright in the gloom of the forest.  
"Including you?" Madra frowned, concentrating, then held up all ten fingers. "This – " she closed her hands then unfurled an extra two fingers. "And this."  
"Twelve." Remus prompted, demonstrating with his own fingers. "Ten, plus two, equals twelve."  
"Twelve." The young woman said softly. "Show me more." Madra demanded with a defiant tilt of her chin. Remus inclined his head politely.  
"If you wish…"

Counting with his fingers, Remus started with the very basics, the same way – Severus realised with a jolt – he'd helped Macula begin to understand mathmatics. Madra's face held the boy's same look of rapt concentration… Severus gritted his teeth against the sudden and unexpected pang of regret. Pointless to dwell on it, they couldn't have brought Macula with them anyway. 

"Severus?" Remus was giving him a questioning glance. The ex-slave shook himself out of his abstraction and summoned a small smile.  
"Tired and hungry."  
"We'll be stopping for the night soon." Eireniaos spoke up from the front. "There will be a fire and hot food." 

He sounded indulgent, as if he were humouring the delicate sensibilities of the city dwellers. Severus repressed a snort: no doubt he and Remus were going to have to go some way to prove themselves _hardy_ enough to keep up with the pack. He would enjoy a proper soak in hot water, though, that he couldn't deny…

 

The light and warmth of the fire was greatly appreciated, as was the coal roasted fish, and not just by the 'soft' newcomers. There was no conversation during the meal as everyone focused on savouring the food. When every scrap had been consumed and the company was comfortably full, Eireniaos sat back on his bedroll and related how he came to be where he was. It was, Severus realised, an invitation for them to tell their own stories. Remus realised that as well and when the pack leader had finished with his tale of a young and foolish Greek shepherd caught outside on a full moon, he offered the account of his life. 

The pack listened in silence, disturbed by the offhand cruelty the Romans showed in maintaining their lycanthropic 'line', and appalled by the manner of the sacrifice. 

"How did you get away?" Maximos asked in a whisper.  
Remus fingered the scar across his throat and smiled at the ex-slave.  
"That is Severus' tale."

Severus didn't flinch to find himself the centre of attention, and was obscurely pleased to be speaking openly about magic. He'd been circumspect with Remus - who he suspected still didn't quite believe him - while the pack, on the other hand, had magus amongst its numbers. They were familiar with magic, and could perhaps truly appreciate his… cunning. Indeed, Eireniaos did seem particularly impressed. 

"My wife is a _magus_ , she will be very interested to hear this."

His wife? Severus glanced at Maximos – yet their son had no magic? It was not unheard of but…

The pack leader was obviously following his thoughts. 

"Lysistrate is my second wife." He clapped his son on the shoulder. "Maximos is the son of my first wife."  
Severus nodded – that made sense - Remus, meanwhile, simply looked confused by the interchange.  
"It is unusual for the child of a _magus_ to not have the same abilities." Severus explained and though the Roman appeared to follow, his ex-slave could see there were more questions bubbling below the surface. That would have to wait for another time, however.

Eireniaos stood up and stretched. 

"You two can sleep through, we will watch tonight."  
"We can take our turn as well." Remus ventured but the pack leader shook his head.  
"You are not yet fully recovered, and your mate – " he grinned down at them. "He is worn out with worrying over you."  
Remus tensed.  
"How do you know we're…?"  
Eireniaos shrugged.  
"Your scents are twined." He laced his fingers together in demonstration.  
"Will that be a problem?" Remus said, somewhat warily.  
"Of course not." The big Greek raised his eyebrows. "I know you Romans have some funny ideas." He shared a bemused look with Severus, who half-smirked in response. " _We_ do not care who you love, as long as there is no interferring with the mate of another."  
"As long as there is no interfering with _mine_."

The possesive growl prompted a toe-curling shiver in Severus. Remus, not surprisingly, noticed and shot him a look full of promissary lust. No doubt if they'd been alone things would've become very primal very quickly.

Eierniaos was smirking at them.

"Stop that. You make me want to go home to my wife and as it is I have to wait a day!"  
"Sorry." Remus said, managing to sound not in the least bit repentant.

The pack leader, still smirking, shook his head and turned away.

"Get some sleep. The last part of the journey will be difficult..."

 

They'd set their bedrolls out side by side beside the fire and had fallen asleep facing each other beneath their respective covers. Come morning they were a cosy tangle of limbs and bedding, and Eireniaos was smirking again. 

"There's food, if you can prise yourselves apart."  
"Does the pack live communally?" Severus asked. Eireniaos laughed, divining his reason for asking.  
"We are like any other village, everyone has their own dwelling. There are none empty at the moment so you'll have to build one. But you'll have all the help you need and – " Eireniaos indicated the surrounding trees. " - there's no lack of timber. Until then, my wife and I can offer you hospitality, or you can stay in the caves if you wish for… privacy."  
"I think we might consider the caves." Severus said quickly, feeling Remus' erection rolling against his hip. The wolf's smouldering leer let him know it was entirely deliberate.  
"That might be for the best." Eireniaos spoke with a straight face but his nostrils were twitching and Severus could only imagine what he was scenting. 

 

Midday saw the party at the base of what appeared to be a vertical rockface. Remus and Severus glanced askance at each other.  
"I assume there's an easier way in?" Remus asked no one in particular.  
"There is." Maximos' grin was reminiscent of his father's. "But it's hidden, and protected by _magus_ work. Once you're past the barrier this first time you'll be able to come and go as you please, but for now, stay very close or you'll become lost."

Severus could sense the magic long before they began to ascend the narrow, steep path. The diversion charm was powerful and old, with the taste of many _magus_ lingering like incense. He could feel it insinuating itself in his mind, clouding his perception as it urged him to _go another way_. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist for long and Remus… Remus was already blank and glassy-eyed. Severus clasped his lover's fingers tightly, accepted Eireniaos' hand on his shoulder and grimly concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other.

The fog abruptly cleared from his mind and Severus found himself staring down into a heavily wooded valley. It was hard to tell with the thick covering of trees but it looked as though the slope here was much gentler than without. He glanced up, taking note of the sun's position. The afternoon was well advanced; they'd been climbing for some time. 

"It's beautiful." Remus breathed. He grinned at his mate. "Isn't it?"

Severus nodded ascent, more pleased with the delight on his wolf's face than the vista of the valley.

"We've caves and springs and a good, clean river that runs along the bottom." Eirenias said with pride. "It's not a luxurious life but the forest provides most of what we need."  
"Luxurious, it is." Lal spoke for the first time. The young man's accent was rough and thick. "Not everyone has hot water ready to use."  
"Hot springs?" Severus enquired, suddenly interested. It had been far too long since he'd bathed properly.  
"Yes. In the caves." Eirenias grinned. "And not thick and smelly like some. We spend most of the day after the full in there."  
"When can we…?" Remus said eagerly, voicing his mate's thoughts.  
"Come and meet everyone first, then you can bathe."

 

Including the families of the wolves, there were thirty people in the community, thirty-two now with the new additions. 

Remus and Severus were greeted warmly and with interest, especially by the scattering of children. Severus stood aside and watched his lover interacting with the youngsters. Outwardly Remus was all smiles and fun, but his heartache wasn't far below the surface. 

"He misses the cub, yes?" Eireniaos spoke quietly and sighed when Severus nodded. "No matter what else is said about werewolves, it is not true that we are solitary monsters. We need a pack to be happy. We need our kin." He spat on the ground. "And the Romans call _us_ barbaric."  
"I couldn't bring the boy." Severus whispered. "It would have complicated the situation tenfold." It sounded to his ears as if he was entreating understanding. He did feel a large measure of guilt at leaving Macula behind but Remus' survival had been his priority.

Eireniaos silently observed the ex-slave for several long moments. Then he smiley slyly.

"You could go back for him."

Severus blinked then gave the pack leader a small, fierce grin. 

"I _could_ …" His brow furrowed as he rapidly reviewed the options and began to formulate a plan. "It's possible, but say nothing to Remus, please. If I can't fetch his cub then I'd rather he never know of the attempt."  
"You have my silence." Eireniaos vowed. "When will you do it?"  
"We need to be settled here first, and Winter is approaching…" He tapped his chin. "In the Spring."  
Eireniaos laughed.  
"Then snatch the child from right beneath their arrogant noses!" He stifled his mirth as Remus approached, led by a tiny, blonde girl. The wolf looked both amused and bemused.  
"Annia is going to show us the baths."  
"Thank you." 

Severus inclined his head gravely to the child, who giggled then took his hand. He wondered, briefly, at the trusting nature of their little guide but had his answer when he glanced back at Eireniaos. The big man's watchful gaze and ready stance made clear there would be _consequences_ for any untoward action, not just to this child but his pack as a whole. Given time, and care, Severus thought he and Remus might be able to count themselves under that protection as well. It was a remarkably comforting thought.

In the eight days before the next full moon they'd chosen a spot for their hut and felled enough timber to make a start. It was hard work, but as Eireniaos had promised, they'd had plenty of help. In the meantime they'd set themselves up in a corner of the large cave the humans used as shelter when the wolves ran. It was a little chill in there but between the huge pile of bedding furs and the fire pit, they were quite cosy - and private. 

Remus in particular was extremely pleased that this was so and Severus reaped the benefits of an affectionate lover who didn't feel the need for reserve. 

They'd slipped into the life of the pack with barely a ripple. As strangers, Severus had expected some distance towards them but no, they were welcomed into the community with no apparent hesitation. He wasn't surprised to find, however, that of the eighteen _magus_ there, he was probably the strongest, or would be, once he started exercising his abilities regularly. It was glorious after so many years, to finally be somewhere where his skills could be actively used and appreciated. 

He quickly mastered the spells necessary to keep the pack hidden, and to feel his power merge seamlessly with the spell-wall gave him the deepest satisfaction.

 

Their first full moon with the pack was memorable. The tension on the day had been palpable but, as Remus noted to his mate, it was more anticipation than apprehension. Severus had his own concerns about the upcoming full, not least of which was his lover's safety. As the day progressed it became increasingly obvious to him that some of the younger wolves in the pack were taking Remus' measure. Would he have to fight for a place in the hierachy?

Eireniaos' broad hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts.

"Don't worry, there will be blood when they sort themselves out, but no deaths."  
Severus smiled grimly.  
"You'll forgive me if I'm not reassured."  
The pack leader chuckled as he strode away.  
"It is simply the way of things. You know that." 

The pack ate early in the afternoon, not at sundown as was usual, and then began to prepare for the moon. The children herded the livestock into temporary pens at the back of the cave while the adults hauled in extra food, bedding and firewood. And then they waited…

The light was fading fast; Remus pulled Severus in close for a tight and trembling embrace, burying his face in his mate's shoulder. Severus stroked his hand down Remus' back.

"Eireniaos assures me you won't die." He spoke with exaggerated gravitas, causing the wolf to choke out a laugh.  
"Oh well, that's all right then."  
Severus smiled into his lover's hair then stood back.  
"I'll see you tomorrow."

Remus nodded, then taking his cue from the other wolves, shed his clothes and handed them to Severus. The glow of the setting sun reflected as a reddish flare in his amber eyes. He lifted a hand to cup his mate's cheek.

"Tomorrow." He said then loped off to stand with the others. 

The humans in the pack didn't rely entirely on their magus to protect them. The cave's entrance was sealed with a rounded slab of stone which was then secured with wooden beams. True, it took five people to shift the stone into position – and they insisted on doing this themselves rather than letting a magus magic it into place - but if for any reason the spells didn't work there was a physical barrier between them and the wolves.

Severus watched closely as Lysistrate, Eireniaos' wife, set the complex series of enchantments that would make the lycanthropes ignore them. 

"We will be safe now." She said to him, then tilted her head to one side. "Would you like to see them?"  
"Them?"  
"The wolves. There is a gap in the rocks…" 

She led him through into a natural corridor he'd noticed but not bothered to explore, and there, a short way up the wall and accesible by a ledge of stone, was a small opening. 

The moon was just rising and as Severus looked down slightly to the clear space in front of the cave, the newly transformed wolves were getting to their feet, shaking themselves, snuffing the air. To his chargrin he wasn't entirely sure which one was Remus but Eireniaos was unmistakable. The pack leader was the biggest, the most gnarled: he lifted his head and howled. The pack howled with him, then between one breath and the next they were on the move, streaming away in to the trees. All except one tawny-grey which Severus _knew_ was his lover. 

The Remus-wolf hesitated, staring after them, poised, as if not sure he should follow. Then he was gone, too, bounding forwards to catch up with the pack.

Severus turned away from the viewing hole to see Lysistrate smiling up at him. 

"They are quite a sight."  
"They are." He agreed quietly.  
"Come. Have something to eat then see if you can sleep. They won't be back 'til morning…"

 

 **Epilogue**.

 

The sun's light finally had a bit of strength to it and the snow was steadily melting, dripping away to swell the river at the bottom of the valley. The Winter hadn't been as hard as Severus had expected but even so he welcomed the return of Spring. So did Remus, but not for the same reasons.

The leather door flap was thrust aside, letting in a blast of near-freezing air and a vibrantly pleased werewolf.

Severus quirked an eyebrow.

"Good hunting?" 

Remus held aloft a good half-dozen carcases of assorted small game.

"Reasonable. This is just what I caught." He laughed, something he did a lot of now. "We'll all eat well tonight!"  
"Oi, Remus!" A raucus voice called from outside their hut. "D'you want to hand over your catch before you pin your mate to the floor?"

Grinning broadly, Remus pushed open the leather flap and tossed the carcases out to whoever was waiting.

"Who says I'll be the one doing the pinning?" he smirked. 

Severus didn't hear the resulting good-natured ribaldry, transfixed as he was by his wolf's predatory grin. If he hadn't known him previously, Severus would've had a hard time believing the relaxed, confident, and rather shaggy man advancing on him had at one time been a well-groomed, aristocratic Roman. Remus has blossomed, embracing pack life with a joyousness that was infectious. His smooth skin carried scars now – werewolf inflicted injuries never healed cleanly – but he was happy, and therefore Severus was happy, too. There was just one dark spot on their shared contentment, and though Remus had only mentioned Macula once, his mate knew he often thought of the cub.

They'd been watching the pack's children play in the newly fallen snow, and the reason for Remus' wistfulness wasn't hard to place.

"He'll be well cared for." Severus had murmured.  
"I know." The wolf's smile was small and resigned. "But he's the closest thing I'll ever have to a son." 

Severus had _almost_ revealed his plans for retrieving the cub there and then, but caution had won out and he'd held himself back. There was no guarantee, after all, that he _could_ rescue Macula… 

"So." Remus nibbled his neck. "Will you pin me?"

Severus chuckled, trying not to squirm away from the cold fingers burrowing through his clothes towards his skin.

"If I must."  
"You must." Remus rumbled softly into his ear. "Especially if you're going to be abandoning me – "  
"I'll be gone for _one day_ , you oversexed squirrel."  
"And a night…" The wolf pressed forwards with his hips until their erections were aligned. "You've never been gone that long before." 

There was a question in his tone but Severus wasn't about to give any more explanation than he already had, which was that he had to go further afield to replenish some supplies. It wasn't a lie, precisely.

Severus gestured with a lazy hand towards the community beyond their wattle and daub walls. 

"Take your pick!" he snorted. "I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone to console you while I'm away."  
Remus laughed and slipped his arms around his mate's neck.  
"Oh all right, you win, I don't want anyone else."  
Severus rested his hands on the wolf's hips.  
"I'll be back before you know it, and you can do what you like with me then."  
"Anything?" Remus smirked.  
"Within reason." Severus slipped a hand down to fondle his lover's arse. "Nothing that will get us thrown out of the pack."  
"They're remarkably broad-minded, you know." Remus murmured against his mouth.  
"Even so I'd like to keep what I can of my dignity, thank you very much."  
"Can we discuss this later?" Remus was pushing back against his hand. "I really want you inside me."  
Severus half-smiled, but his expression was soft.  
"As you wish…" 

 

A little over a day later, in the darkest part of the night, Severus slipped into the compound of the Janus sect. There were guards, as usual, but sleepy and inattentive as they were there was no chance of them detecting him beneath his veiling spell. He moved soundlessly through the complex, towards what had been Remus' room. 

He slid in to the room, quickly cancelling the veiling spell and summoning a soft _magus_ light as Macula stirred awake. The cub's enhanced senses were alerting him to the stranger in his room and there would be less chance of… complications if he could see who it was. Severus silently marvelled at the youngster: only half a year away and already the boy looked like he'd grown more than a handspan.

"Sev'rus." The boy stared at him. "Are you a _ghost_?" He whispered, instantly setting aside Severus' fear that he wouldn't remember him.  
"No." He stepped up to the bed. "I'm as alive as you - "

The impact of a healthy child throwing himself into his arms sent the ex-slave staggering back a step.

"Have you come back?" Macula's fingers were twisted uncomfortably in the cloth of Severus' outer tunic but he didn't think to extricate himself. Instead, he gently wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders.

"I've come to take you away with me. If you wish."  
"Away?"  
"Away. To Remus."  
Macula's eyes went wide.  
"But he's dead."  
"He's not." Severus smirked, then lowered his voice further. "It was a trick to fool the priests."  
The cub was searching his face anxiously.  
"Remus isn't dead? You promise?"  
"I promise." Severus nodded solemnly. "He and I live somewhere safe, with other lycanthropes. There are children there, too."

As expected, that last snippet of information tipped the balance. Macula had come from a large household with a number of youngsters to a somber and stoic religious order where he was the only child. 

"I want to come with you." He said decisively.  
"Good." Severus gave him a small smile. "Remus - and I - have missed you." 

The boy said nothing, but his grip became tighter if that was at all possible.

"We'll leave now. Is there anything you want to bring?"  
Macula squared his little shoulders.  
"No." He fidgetted, then: "Yes."

He pushed away to rummage around in the bed linens before pulling out a scuffed wooden doll.

"I want to take this."  
"Of course."  
Severus didn't smile, and certainly didn't make any allusions to Macula being too old for such a thing, which – given the almost defiant way he was brandishing the toy – was obviously what the child was expecting to hear. 

"When Remus… when you left, I was very sad." Macula held the doll tightly to his chest. "Tullius gave him to me. He said he was Remus', when Remus was little."  
"Then we definitely can't leave him behind, can we?"  
Macula shook his head.  
"He'd be sad."  
Severus held out his arms.  
"Come then. It's time to go." He settled the cub on his hip. "Close your eyes, Macula. When you wake up we'll be with Remus."

Skinny arms wound around his neck and Macula dutifully shut his eyes. Severus wordlessly cast a simple sleep spell and the child relaxed completely. He was surprisingly heavy. Severus doused the magus light and prepared for the shift in locations. 

He'd managed to keep this enterprise from Remus and was looking forward to seeing his lover's face when he appeared with his 'son'… Though it was tempting to stay around and watch the Romans' consternation when their holy slave disappeared without trace. Would they interpret it as a sign from their gods to stop the practise, or would they simply go out and capture another werewolf? Severus gently shifted the cub's pliant weight to a more comfortable position on his hip: Romans could be bull-headed when it came to changing their ways, it would probably pay him to return in a few months. There may be another wolf to rescue…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favourite of my Snupins. I like the mythology I came up with, and the story is one that I feel the least need to fiddle with. :)


End file.
